


Good Cop, Sad Cop

by 2Atoms



Category: Polygon/McElroy Vlogs & Podcasts RPF
Genre: Gill and Gilbert, M/M, Private Investigators AU, Questionable understanding of the role private detectives play in crimes, This isnt a piss constable AU but it should be, im sorry for writing this, most of the other current polygon folk are mentioned too, sfw, tara is the mvp
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-30
Updated: 2018-09-01
Packaged: 2019-07-04 17:09:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15845679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/2Atoms/pseuds/2Atoms
Summary: Brian is a recently qualified private investigator, and excited to start working with the infamous Detective Patrick Gill. Unfortunately Pat doesn't want a sidekick.





	1. Chapter 1

Patrick’s first day as a private investigator had been on a miserable, cold New York morning. The crime had been gruesome, and the leads had been arduous to pursue. For that reason, Pat felt slightly resentful that Brian had been welcomed to the team on a clear spring day, birds singing and a breeze rustling the tree leaves.

Unlike his first hard-nosed boss, the current company director didn’t demand their new team members prove themselves on the most heart-wrenching, bloody case available. Instead, there was time to introduce the cheery blond investigator to their smiling colleagues, to learn about his past as a lab technician for forensic evidence. They found time to sit around Brian’s newly assigned desk with coffee and donuts, and to laugh over company-mandated ‘Getting to Know You’ activities. Brian stood out against the veteran investigators that populated the other desks, with his bright converse sneakers and patterned button ups. He would more convincingly blend in with a gaggle of college drama students than his co-workers. Pat had no hesitations pointing that out.

The first case they were assigned together was a good, old-fashioned missing persons case. It was passed to them by the life insurance company who were being asked to pay out, after the police decided it wasn’t worth their time. A vanished husband and a reclusive wife with limited leads that Pat could find online. After a short consultation with his boss, Tara, Pat planned to head out to the upstate brownstone and interrogate with the witnesses in person.

“Take Brian with you!” Tara had yelled after him, as he trudged out of their meeting.

Back in their open plan office, Pat saw Brian’s head turned to the open door. Really, the older detective didn’t want someone else to watch over his every move – least of all this new, enthusiastic criminologist. Trying not to sigh too obviously, Pat took a second to glare back at Tara. He knew this game: saddling the cynical, experienced older investigator with the naïve, enthusiastic new kid. Tara had already turned back to her laptop, pretending to be absorbed in some case file to prevent him arguing with her. Pat closed her office door a little too harshly, cringing under his co-workers’ scowls. After printing some paperwork, he fetched his bag and coat from his desk. No point putting off the inevitable.

“Hey, its Brian, right?” Pat asked, trying desperately to sound uninterested as if it might put the kid off.

“Hi! Yeah! Did Tara say something about a case?” Brian was so perky it hurt to listen to, and Pat made a mental note to get some strong coffee on the way to the house.

“Uh… yeah. Are you good to go now?”

“Yeah! Of course!” Brian shut down his computer before Pat even finished speaking and jumped up from his chair with a wide smile.

“Cool.” Pat grumbled back, heading for the elevator with heavy footsteps. Brian jogged to catch up to him, and Pat felt as though he was being forced to puppysit for the day.

Brian asked him question after question in the elevator, and Pat cursed every new person who made the car stop. He also completely forgot to tell Brian they were getting off a few floors above ground level. Pat heard shuffling and apologies behind him as Brian struggled to exit the elevator car before the doors closed again.

The new detective made a ‘whoosh’ sound with his mouth as he caught up with Pat’s long strides. “Nearly missed you there! Where are we going?” Brian was looking around them, presumably trying to figure out why they were heading down a boring, executive-looking corridor. The modern white décor didn’t give him any clues, and Pat just kept walking.

Eventually, on the other side of the building, they stopped outside of heavy industrial double doors. Unlike the other oak-and-glass doors on this floor there weren’t any windows to give Brian a hint of what was on the other side, and they were covered in caution signs. After scanning his security pass Pat shouldered open one of the doors, barely holding it open long enough for Brian to squeeze through. Inside was a brightly lit lab, half occupied with clean, sterile work surfaces and equipment. In the other half of the room was a group of people huddled on soft chairs that circled a low coffee table. When the door opened the four turned to welcome them.  Two, who introduced themselves as Jenna and Ashley, were wearing lab coats.

“Clayton is around here someplace, too. He mostly runs the DNA testing stuff.” Jenna told Brian warmly. She had her lab coat sleeves rolled up to show winding tribal tattoos up one arm, and there were pins and patches all over the white fabric. Ashley’s lab coat was more practical, pockets stuffed full of pens and a pair of expensive-looking safety glasses. The lower half of it was stained a rainbow of bright colours, some of which definitely had to be intentional. They had met briefly upstairs during Brian’s induction, and bonded immediately over their shared lab work experience.

Brian seemed to find endless conversation topics for the scientists, and Clayton joined the discussion once he had returned to the room with a take-out bag. It was the most animated Pat had seen Brian since he had joined the firm, and he was grateful for the time distraction – which gave him time to talk to the other detectives in the room.

Pat had worked with both Allegra and Simone extensively, at one time or another. He had been recruited around the same time Simone was; and had immediately taken to Allegra’s dry sense of humour, a trait that they shared. Without pleasantries or formalities, the three discussed their current active cases and exchanged theories and leads. When they had run out of information that was safe to divulge the others were still chatting, laughing about some Relatable Science Moments and showing Brian around the lab.

“Got stuck with the new kid, huh?” Simone asked, keeping her voice uncharacteristically quiet.

Pat groaned in response, making the other two detectives exchange knowing looks.

“Maybe Tara’s trying to cheer you up,” Allegra tried, and Simone seemed to emphatically agree.

“Yeah! A new kid might be good for you! Did you see his application?” Pat shook his head, and Simone continued, “He’s super well qualified, went to college for forensics and everything.”

“He’s a smart kid,” Allegra added, watching the group of scientists as Ashley bragged about their newest instruments.

“Maybe on paper.” Pat sounded unconvinced, before raising his voice to get the attention of the room “but we should get going, anyway. We came over to get evidence bags.”

Brian looked reluctant to leave but followed Pat anyway as he collected the test kits and gave surly goodbyes to the other detectives in the room. Simone left with them, and she made quiet conversation with Pat as they exited the building. Brian could hear a word they were saying, instead occupying himself by watching the people in suits around them.

After parting ways with Simone, Pat took long strides directly towards the nearest subway station, and once again Brian had to push apologetically through the crowd behind him. The new detective manages to trail behind Pat, and eventually they exit the railway station and onto the streets of Brooklyn. The wide streets of Prospect Heights are lined with terraced brownstone houses, decorated with trees bearing newly grown spring leaves.

“What exactly is this case?” Brian asks, finally able to walk astride the taller man. The cool breeze causes Patrick’s hair to brush over his face, and he periodically shook his face to clear his eyes. The irritability on his face caused Brian to shrink back. Pat was clearly going to great lengths to avoid interacting with him. Pat’s constant dismissal of the younger detective was wearing away at Brian, even with his optimistic outlook and his chipper nature. Brian felt the need to clear the air if they were to actually get any work done on this case.

“Listen,” Brian started, halting and lightly grabbing hold of Patrick’s arm to stop him walking off. Despite Pat’s weary look, Brian persevered, “I know you might not want a companion or whatever on this, I’m perfectly capable of helping you, and Tara assigned us _both_ to this case.”

The older detective considered him for a moment, frowning slightly, and Brian nervously continued, “Just, give me a chance. I ‘wanna learn, and I really… think I can help…”

As he trailed off Patrick stood up straighter and looked down his nose at Brian. A few seconds passed with only the noise of the city rumbling in the background. Brian was determined not to back down, knowing that this might be his only chance to earn the respect of his senior colleague.

“Y’know kid, I might’ve been too harsh on you.”

 It wasn’t an apology, but it was progress. Brian felt buoyed by the recognition, and gave Pat a satisfied nod before leading the way to continue down the road.

 

* * *

 

Brian was still getting over the adrenaline rush of confronting Pat when they stopped outside one of the intimidating three story brownstone houses. It could only be differentiated from its neighbours by the shiny gold number on the door.

Pat checked his phone, fixed his hair, then took a calming breath before passing Brian to make his way up the steps to the house’s elevated front entrance. He firmly pressed down the doorbell beside the heavy door frame, holding it for a good few seconds before stepping back. He positioned himself slightly in front of the other man, not blocking Brian’s view but firmly asserting himself as the primary caller.

The man who had opened the door was clearly not the owner of the house, a suited older man who fumbled with the door locks and peered down at the detectives with trepidation.

“We would like to speak to Mrs. Wright, sir.” Pat informed him solemnly. Brian tried to school his face into a serious expression which matched his partner’s, having definitely decided to leave the talking to Pat.

The man at the door took a second to read the situation, and then excused himself to fetch Mrs. Wright. Once he had pottered out of the hallway, Pat quietly informed Brian that Mrs. Wright was the wife of their disappeared man (though Pat thought even the slowest trainee detective should have figured that out) and his own primary suspect.

Pat felt his hunch solidify as Mrs. Wright sauntered to the door, sizing up the detectives. She wore a shin-length house dress and quilted slippers, cradling a cordless landline phone in one hand.

“Can I help you?”

Pat had a well-rehearsed spiel, ready to explain their purpose to this woman. “We have been commissioned by your insurance brokers to investigate your husband’s disappearance. I understand that this is a difficult time for you, but this is a vital part of the process in order to move on.”

 The woman looked increasingly sceptical during Pat’s speech, and seemed to be deciding on a way to brush them off. Pat retrieved his state-issued investigator’s license from an inside pocket of his coat, prompting Brian to do the same. Just as the woman tried to make an excuse, Pat continued. He lowered his voice further and leaned in to remake his point.

“I think it’s in your best interests to just let us in, ma’am.”

Brian kept blessedly quiet as Pat tried to talk his way into the house.

“Your insurance company has hired us to verify that the life insurance claim is… valid.”

The tough guy act was a skill honed over years of work, and Pat knew he had been just as dumbstruck the first time he saw it. When he had just started out almost a decade ago he had been assigned to work with Tara for the first few months. Despite her smaller stature, she was force to be reckoned with. She had led Pat into dozens of imposing houses like this with a flash of her badge and a fake smile, and if that didn’t work she would talk her way over the threshold.

Despite settling into her desk job position comfortably, occasionally Pat would see the old fieldwork Tara – when a case went wrong or a client was being uncooperative – and it still impressed him every time. She had taught him the faux-confidence he was exercising now.

He took a moment to feel grateful for Tara’s tutelage as Mrs. Wright finally opened the door wider for the detectives, ushering them into a pristine sitting area.

Brian had watched in awe as Pat got them in to the house, and now he had to snap his jaw shut as he stared around the house. The lofty ceilings and busy interior design gave the impression of a Victorian period reception room, and frankly it was freaking Brian out. Pat merely gave everything a cold once-over, cataloguing all the bizarre features and the strange layout. Now that they were in the house Mrs. Wright seemed more willing to co-operate, introducing herself as Victoria (not giving any nickname) and disappearing out of yet another door to make tea.

Pat pulled the paperwork he had printed in the office out of his bag, where it was stowed in an unlabelled manila folder. He quickly flicked through, before passing it over to Brian.

“What d’you reckon?” he asked, watching as the younger detective carefully processed each page.

“They’ve never found a body?” Brian inquired, still only around half way through the wedge of documents.

“Nope. There was forced entry to the house, through a broken window, and some of Henry Wright’s blood. That’s it.”

“There was glass inside the house?”

“Yeah. It looks like they tried to use a crowbar to pry the window open, then gave up and smashed the glass.”

“That’s kinda weird,” Brian mused, going back to the crime scene photos. “And they only found the victim’s blood? No one else’s?”

Pat made a noise for negative, watching the door for any sign of Victoria Wright returning. 

“Was the blood on the inside or the outside of the broken window?”

Pat gave a knowing smile, “The police _think_ inside, but that doesn’t make much sense.”

Brian closed the file, looking up at Pat in disbelief. “They think someone broke the window, then _dragged_ the victim back out the same window?”

Pat chuckled, maybe he could warm to the boy after all.

“Yep. The insurance company didn’t believe that either. That’s why we’re here.”

He shut his mouth quickly as he heard the chink-chink-clattering of Mrs. Wright carrying a tray back into the room. Brian scrambled to clear one of the low tables, quickly jamming the folder back into Pat’s open bag. Victoria gave him a gentle thanks and poured cups for the three of them.

The older detective bluntly rejected the tea, but Brian felt compelled to take a cup out of politeness. Although he hadn’t planned on actually drinking it, a warning glance from Pat instantly strengthened his resolve.

Brian tried to induce a friendly conversation with the woman while Patrick sat in silence, sizing her up. Once she had warmed up somewhat, chatting about the neighbourhood with Brian, the hard questions started.

“Where were you the night your husband disappeared?” Pat fixed her with a blank stare, and Brian leant back in his chair.

She stammered for a moment, before haltingly explaining that she had been upstairs and slept through the whole ordeal. When Pat pressed her for more information, she recounted a story that was consistent with the statements the police had taken.

Sleeping pills excused her slow realisation that her partner had disappeared, and she had tampered with the crime scene to ‘tidy’ before the police arrived. She reiterated her innocence again and again, and Pat found himself exasperated every time Brian tried to reassure the flustered woman.

Patrick waited for the stream of excuses to end before demanding to see the downstairs room where the broken window was found. Victoria led them to the stairwell before excusing herself.

 

* * *

 

Following a careful examination and documentation all the noteworthy rooms, the two detectives found themselves alone Mr. Wright’s study. Patrick searched through filing cabinet as Brian examined the computer, predictably finding it to be password protected.

Various members of the household flitted past the open door, loitering and peering into the room. Pat gutted several folders of their contents, photographing each page before meticulously returning each page to the right place. Brian stared around the lavishly decorated office, slumped in a deep leather chair. Brian took the hint not to talk, for fear of being overheard by onlookers.

Finally Pat stood up to stretch his back, grunting as his spine clicked into place. He gestured for Brian to leave ahead of him, giving the room a final once over before he closed the door behind them. They found Victoria in the reception room, ending a phone call as she noticed Brian and Pat approach. The visit ended with a final exchange of business cards, and a promise to keep the remaining family informed of any progress.

 

* * *

 

Pat led his companion into a nearby café, and they both lined up to order separately. The crowd granted them the anonymity they needed to pore over the information they had collected. When Pat took a break to drink his coffee Brian asked a question that had been bothering him since they walked into the Wright house.

“Isn’t this a case for the police?”

“They’ve got bigger problems than some wife pretending her husband disappeared,” Pat replied, with a dry chuckle.

“So you really think they faked it?” Brian looked up from his notes to see if Pat was joking.

“They always do in these cases. The sleeping pill thing is B.S.”

“What, really?” Brian tried to hide his surprise.

“Insurance fraud, Brian. It’s always the spouse.”

Patrick could remember being as naïve as Brian, although he had started much younger. Even though it could be put down to inexperience, Pat still felt irritated that Brian was questioning him.

The younger detective still looked disbelieving, frowning as he reread the case notes lying between them on the table.

“I guess the glass thing is suspicious…” Brian conceded, reflecting on the strange meeting they had with Mrs. Wright.

 

* * *

 

Pat spent the remainder of their work afternoon in the café, ironing out the finer details of the case they were building against the claimant, uploading photos, and labelling evidence. Much of the time was spent in silence, but Brian found himself overwhelmed by all the unfamiliar terminology on the forms they had to fill out. Neither of them had found time for lunch, and Pat struggled not to snap at Brian for his endless questions. Around four the senior detective called it a day and left, hoping to get home before rush hour hit. Brian tried to spend the last hour of his official work day writing the report alone, before giving up and getting food instead.

On the subway home Brian tried to stay positive about his first proper work day, attempting to focus on the few instances where Pat had appreciated his presence rather than when he had been brushed off or ignored. Brian knew all about Pat’s high case closure rate and impressive decade of experience. However, he was struggling to reconcile the legendary detective from his colleagues’ stories with the surly man he had just spent the day with.

Back at his shared apartment Brian wrote up some personal notes from the day. One of his flatmates was home and wanted to hear about his first investigation. When telling the story, Brian found himself exaggerating the more exciting finds, decidedly glossing over every time he’d been made to question whether he was even cut out to be an investigator.

 

* * *

 

When Brian arrived at work the next morning Pat wasn’t at his desk yet, so Brian took the opportunity to chat with some of his friendlier co-workers who were standing around the kitchenette. They all wanted to hear about his investigation yesterday, and Simone and Allegra (who seemed to be basically attached at the hip) asked some more specific questions about the case.

During a natural lull in the conversation Brian took the opportunity to ask, “Do you guys know if Pat, like, has a problem with me, or anything?” He mostly asked the question to his mug of coffee, too embarrassed to direct it at anyone in particular.

Allegra was the first to answer, clearly trying to comfort Brian, “Don’t worry, he’s like that with everyone.”

Brian distinctly thought that he _wasn’t_ like that with everyone, recalling how engaged Pat had been talking to Simone and Allegra in the lab the day before. Simone seemed to think the same thing, as she told him, “I think it’s just because you’re new. He probably didn’t want to be saddled with the new guy, y’know?”

Allegra gave Brian an apologetic look, trying to neutralize Simone’s bluntness. Clayton was slouching against the cabinet next to the coffee machine and nodded sagely.

“He’s been real grumpy lately, don’t stress about it.” Brian felt barely a little better and gave Clayton a thankful smile.

“I know he seems a bit hard-assed, Brian, but Pat’s a really good investigator. He could do with some new blood to cheer him up a bit.”

Allegra patted his arm as she left, shortly followed by Simone and Clayton.

The rest of the day passed as Brian searching through the evidence Pat had sent him, mostly consisting of the Pat’s photographs of birth certificates, credit card bills, and various insurance records from the client company.

 

* * *

 

In the following weeks his interactions with Pat were short and infrequent. The older detective seemed to be a man of few words, but he always answered Brian’s questions in a timely manner. Even late night and weekend emails got almost instant replies.

Brian worked several other cases simultaneously – as did all the other investigators – but none of the others weighed on his mind quite like the missing persons case he shared with Pat.

He often stayed late, struggling to meet his deadlines while learning the new system. It was exactly a month after he first joined the company that Brian found himself left alone with Pat again.

Pat had been working from home for most of the week, today had arrived around midday for a meeting with Tara. Now he was slumped over his desk in the corner of the shared office, typing heavily on his battered laptop. The rest of the office had gone home, trickling out one by one as they finished their tasks (except for Simone, who had bolted as soon as the minute hand was close enough to vertical). Brian knew it was laborious and time consuming, but he was taking care to thoroughly read each of the documents of each case before embedding it in his write ups, feeling it was too early in this job to make a single mistake.

Although they had already decided to recommend a no-fault claim, paying money out to the victim’s wife, Brian still had to label and declare all the evidence. Pat had insisted there wasn’t enough evidence to prosecute Mrs. Right, despite his hunch and the strange feeling permeating the household.

It was while Brian was scanning through the credit card receipts Pat had taken at the house that he noticed some bizarre spending patterns. Regular weekly purchases had been halved, as would be expected, but the spending decrease had first happened around 4 months ago. Given that Henry Wright’s supposed kidnapping had happened barely nine weeks ago, it seemed like an odd change in expenses for the wealthy older couple. Unless Mr. Wright had vanished before the supposed break in.

Dozens of potential no-fault scenarios played through Brian’s head to justify the change, but none of them seemed like they could account for the change he had found. Despite the late hour, Brian decided to go with his gut and check the other evidence available to him. He kept an eye on Pat to ensure he wasn’t watching Brian wasting time, knowing that they were under too much pressure to embark on fools’ errands.

Trying to verify whether the victim had been living in the house at all for the last 4 months proved fairly easy once Brian knew what he was looking for, with various Facebook post timelines and staff interviews corroborating his suspicions. Now he just had to present his idea to Pat. At least there was no one else to watch him stammer.

Taking a deep breath to steel himself, Brian decided to talk to the senior detective before he changed his mind. Brian couldn’t help but feel self-conscious as he paced over to Pat’s desk, laptop under his arm. After catching Pat’s attention, Brian fought to explain his deductions in a way that sounded well thought out.

Once the thorough explanation turned into rambling, Pat gestured to see the computer. Pat took barely a glance at Brian’s carefully annotated evidence, before leaning back in his chair and handing the laptop back closed. Brian fumbled to fill the silence.

“… So, he probably stopped living with his wife at least four months ago, meaning the break in was staged. The proof is right there, I guess.” Brian concluded lamely, completely drained of the confidence he’d had at the begging of his discovery.

Pat sighed, put his glasses on the desk, and rubbed a hand across his face. Brian’s felt the awkward smile drop from his own face.

“Brian… we’ve pretty much already closed this case. Why have you been wasting your time on this? The court paperwork is being filed tomorrow. It’s already over.”

Excitement turned to deep embarrassment as Brian walked back to his desk. He packed up his worksurface as quietly as he could, glad there was no one else at work who could have overheard his conversation with Pat. He left the office with one last hopeful look back at Pat, who was already back to typing furiously. He ignored Brian entirely. As the elevator car arrived with a _ding_ Pat’s brow furrowed even deeper, but he didn’t look up from his screen.


	2. Chapter 2

Having his work rejected by Pat bothered Brian a lot more than he’d expected, and after pleading his case he left the office on autopilot. His limbs felt icy and the crowds on the street made him feel claustrophobic and nauseous. Usually, he was very conscious of everyone else on the street, making himself late to avoid getting in anyone’s way. Today, however, Brian felt himself barging through crowds of tourists and businessmen to the orange glow of the underground station. The subway ride home seemed to pass instantly even without the distraction of music or games on his phone. His flatmate and sister, Laura, was making herself dinner when Brian barged through the front door.

“Hey, how did work go today?” Laura’s question almost made Brian break down. He sat down heavily at the kitchen table and recounted an abbreviated version of the story. Where Brian was expecting a sympathetic shoulder to cry on, he looked up to see Laura leant against the kitchen counter, seething with anger.

“He had no right to do that to you! It’s a good call, and he should at least read the damn evidence! What’s the point in being an investigator if you don’t care about the truth!”

“Laura, I don’t know. It sounds like he’s usually right on stuff like this, and I don’t want to be any more annoying than usual.”

“Brian, I’m sure you don’t annoy him. I really think you’re on to something! Why don’t you send over the files anyway? At least you’d have an official record of suggesting it?”

It wouldn’t hurt to try, Brian conceded. He tried to change the subject, taking the heat off himself. “So, what are you eating for dinner?”

 

* * *

 

After his conversation with Laura, Brian sat at the desk in his room with his work laptop balanced on a stack of old college books. He was staring at a blank email on his company account. Nothing he wrote sounded right. After 20 minutes of messing around, Brian just wrote a short note and hit send before he could overthink it any more.

_“Pat,_

_I have attached the notes for the Wright missing persons case, if you want to look over anything again. The dates for the spending changes don’t match the date the report was filed._

_Thanks,_

_Brian”_

The email sounded uncomfortable and forced, and he prayed Pat wouldn’t notice how stilted his words were. The rest of Brian’s evening routine was overshadowed by the uncomfortable anxiety over the case, and he found himself struggling to sleep well into the night.

 

* * *

 

Brian pretended not to notice when Pat strolled into the office around 10am the next day. Exhaustion shadowed his gaunt face a little more than usual, and Brian’s guilt over adding to Pat’s workload resurfaced. Although Tara had insisted that Pat would be a good mentor for his first big case, Brian felt like he was wasting the older investigator’s time. He was careful not to catch Pat’s eye, timing his printer and coffee runs so they wouldn’t have an opportunity to talk.

All morning Brian worked away at other cases. As the newest employee, he was allocated all the tedious paperwork that more senior investigators didn’t want to use their precious time on. Brian didn’t mind, though, and tried to learn as much from he could from each dictation and report he typed up. Being shot down like that yesterday meant Brian felt uncomfortable asking any of his older colleagues for help, making the work feel even more tedious.

Just before lunch, Brian made a run down to the lab. He had only visited a few times since his initial introduction with Pat, but he was friendly with the scientists who worked there. Ashley and Jenna often visited the office upstairs and went out of their way to say hello to Brian. They had made him feel welcome at the firm, and he (as always) spent far more time than strictly necessary chatting about results and analysis with the lab team. Eventually Jenna left for lunch, and Brian realised he was already working into his lunch break.

On the way back upstairs to get his wallet, Brian felt unusually anxious to get the work day over with. And as much as he hated eating alone, he knew everyone else already had their own routines. He wasn’t going to bother anyone else. A few times, he had been invited out for a meal with the other detectives and really enjoyed spending time with them. On a normal day, however, they all seemed to disappear to various local cafes and Brian had never felt comfortable asking to go with them.

Brian made a beeline for his desk as soon as the elevator doors opened, taking long strides through the apparently deserted office. To his surprise, he heard a deep voice behind him.

“Hey, uh, Gilbert? Are you going for lunch?” Brian twisted around to face Pat, now standing a few feet away from him.

“Um, yeah, I guess.” Brian stammered back, praying he wasn’t about to be chewed out.

“Cool, can I join you?” Whatever he’d been expecting, it wasn’t that.

Brian took a second to check that Pat wasn’t playing some cruel joke on him.

“Yeah! If you want to?” He hoped he sounded casual, and Pat gave him a small, nervous smile. He shrugged his jacket on before leading Pat to the elevator, and Brian felt uncomfortable with their change of roles.

On the way out of the building Brian make small talk about places to get lunch, confessing he hadn’t tried anywhere except the fast food places nearby. Pat suggested an independent diner not too far from their office building, and Brian was grateful to be relieved of the decision making. The queue at the counter moved quickly, and Pat ordered first to give Brian a second to decide. Pat insisted on paying for both their meals, despite Brian’s protests, before finding them a table by the window.

While they waited for their meals, Brian tried to figure out why Pat suddenly wanted to spend time with him. Pat cleared his throat, apparently trying to find a way to vocalise what he was thinking. The younger detective started to talk, wanting to fill the silence, but Pat interrupted him.

“Brian, I… want to apologize.” Pat wouldn’t make eye contact with him as he spoke, instead looking between the window and the table between them.

“I’ve just been really out of it lately, and stressed, and I just… took it out on you. I’m sorry.” Usually Brian would have rebuffed his apology, said it was okay and he didn’t mind, but Pat looked so downtrodden and sincere that Brian just stayed quiet. Plus, he was starting to realise that maybe Pat was the one making their jobs difficult.

“It’s not an excuse, I know,” Pat continued, “I guess I’m, just, not used to being challenged by someone else, or whatever.”

Brian saw through Pat’s forced nonchalance, appreciating that their conversation yesterday must have been weighing on his colleague’s mind heavily.

“Pat, it’s okay. I know I can be annoying, and chatty, and --”

“No, it’s really not okay. I’m sorry. Listen, I looked over those notes you sent me last night, and you’re right. You’re totally right and I nearly fucked up this whole case because of my damn ego and I am so sorry.”

Brian was completely surprised, both by the revelation he was right – and because he wasn’t sure he had ever heard Pat talk this candidly about anything other than work.

“So you think it was weird? Right? The credit card bills?”

“Yeah. Stuff like buying _one_ theatre ticket? Who even does that. It was a good shout, Brian.”

The younger detective was about to reply, when the meals arrived. They ate in silence, trying to make sure they got back before their allocated lunch hour was over. Pat fiddled with his phone as they ate, and Brian stared out the window at the busy street, allowing himself to feel proud.

When they finished eating, and Brian sat picking at his side salad, Pat seemed ready to talk again.

“By the way, all this? You can totally tell Tara. I’ll transfer the whole case to you. The paperwork’s already done, and you deserve the credit. And the bonus.” When Brian tried to argue, to say that he had hardly done any of the real work, Pat politely insisted.

“Listen, what I did was so unprofessional. And it was kinda mean. I’m just… having a really tough time recently, and I took it out on you.” A few moments passed before Pat checked his phone again, “Shit. We should get back, it’s almost two.” He finally looked directly at Brian, “Take the case. I mean it.”

Brian didn’t know what to say, and instead tried to give Pat a reassuring smile before they left. The walk back to the office was brisk, as they tried not to be late (or, tried not to be later than Tara), and left little time for any further conversation. When they parted ways in the bullpen Pat gave him a parting nod and smile, and Brian talked back to his desk a little taller than that morning.

 

* * *

 

The following weekend passed far too quickly, and Brian spent a good amount of it thinking about his Friday lunch with Pat. That afternoon he had received a message from Pat to say that he had already spoken to Tara to transfer the Wright case. Brian had appreciated the gesture, appreciated the boost his pay check would get at the end of the month, and felt grateful to have one less task to do. But it didn’t help him get any more of a read on Pat. When he had spoken to his flatmates about it they thought that their turbulent relationship was probably caused by an issue on Pat’s end, rather than anything to do with Brian, but he found himself worrying nonetheless. Pat’s mood swings and indecision made Brian felt like he was on a rollercoaster, and he couldn’t help but wonder he was riding the high before a stomach-turning fall.

When Monday morning arrived Brian struggled to drag himself out of bed. Skipping breakfast still left him twenty minutes late for work, sweaty and out of breath from rush hour on the subway. He had barely snuck to his desk before Pat burst through the door, red faced and panting. Pat shot him a knowing smirk before settling at his own desk. Maybe they were more alike than Pat like to admit.

When Brian felt an acceptable amount of time had passed he wandered over to the kitchenette to make a coffee. Simone was just leaving as he approached the coffee maker, and she gave him a friendly greeting before going about her business. While Brian was rummaging through the kitchen cabinets to find a clean mug he heard Simone chatting to someone else behind him, and turned to see Pat with a travel cup in hand. He smiled at Brain as he approached.

Pat always seemed more reserved in the mornings, eyes still sleepy and hair slightly mussed up. Brian knew Pat was late so often it was a running joke amongst the other detectives, but he was senior and hardworking enough that none of them ever actually called him out on it.

Brian, on the other hand, was trying to go at least a couple of months at the firm before letting his punctuality slip.

“It was crazy busy on the subway today, huh?” Pat leant against the counter as he waited for his turn to get a coffee refill. Brian laughed dryly, moving aside for the older detective. They moved in silence until both of them were left standing next to each other, tentatively holding their scalding cups of coffee.

“Hey, uh, did you want to go for drinks sometime? Like, after work? I still feel really bad about what happened and, I guess we’ll be working together a lot? It’s fine if you don’t want to, just, if you did, let me know. Y’know?”

Pat never even tried to look at Brian while he rambled, but it was pretty clear who he was talking to.

Brian found himself taken aback by Pat’s question but was pleasantly surprised that the senior detective wanted to spend more time with him that his job required.

“Yeah, totally. When works for you?”

Brian waited to see if Pat actually intended to follow through with his offer.

“What about Tuesday? Is that too soon? I’ll be in the office then,”

“Cool! Tuesday it is!” Brian didn’t have to force the enthusiasm in his voice, he was genuinely excited. There was relief evident on Pat’s face too, and he finally turned to face Bri.

“Nice. I’ll text you, then.” Pat gave an awkward duck-nod as he left, trudging back to his desk.

Brian headed back to his desk for the rest of the day, already second guessing why Pat would want to spend more time with him than strictly necessary.

 

* * *

 

When drinks rolled around the next day Brian didn’t see Pat at work. Contrary to what he’d said, Patrick and several of the other detectives had been called out on a case all day at short notice. He’d texted ahead to apologize, asking if it they could still meet around 6pm at a bar conveniently close to Brian’s apartment building. In hindsight, Brian was sure Pat probably knew where he lived, somehow. Despite the change of plan Brian had sent back an affirmative, and decided to try and make it home before he met Pat.

Rapidly approaching deadlines meant Brian left work late, and arrived at the bar without being able to freshen up at home. He found the bar a few minutes after their agreed time, feeling himself sweating from the warm subway air and his rush to get there.

Brian had planned to take a second to catch is breath before seeking out Pat, but he had already been spotted from across the bar. Pat waved him over, and Brian lugged his work bag off his shoulder and onto a bench that lined the side of the booth opposite Pat.

The bar itself seemed like a fusion of a dingy downtown Irish pub and a hipster brewery, and had around a dozen other occupied tables. Brian hadn’t been in here before, but Pat seemed friendly enough with the staff that he suspected it was somewhere the older detective frequented. Pat was already about half a pint through the larger in front of him, so Brian went to the bar and ordered himself a drink.

When he finally settled on the bench, Brian listened to Pat begin to explain where he’d been all day. Although he skimped on the details of the client and case itself, he said that himself, Allegra, Simone, and Clayton had been traipsing around the city all day pursuing vague leads on a business owner who had failed to make out of court settlement payments. The job itself seemed to be frustrating and physically taxing, but Brian appreciated that Pat’s face lit up when he talked about puzzling through obstacles with his fellow investigators.

Brian felt a little out of his depth, unused to this chatty, open version of Pat. “So you had fun?” he asked, cringing at how childish the question sounded as soon as he said it.

Pat took a sip while he considered Brian’s question.

“Yeah. I guess so. It’s fulfilling, y’know? It’s why I got into the business.”

A couple of hours passed as Brian questioned Pat about his career, asking about his most high-profile and interesting past cases. Pat seemed keen to talk about his work, steering them away from personal conversation, and asked Brian about his motivations and thoughts about his new job. At first Brian had been mentally transported back to his job interview, but as he saw Pat’s sincere interest shine through the conversation began to feel completely natural. It felt nice to talk to someone who completely understood (and shared his enthusiasm for) his career choices.

On one of his rounds Brian bought them both food, admitting to Pat that he hadn’t had time for dinner before rushing to the bar. Pat hadn’t bothered to eat since lunch either. Around them the bar had filled out a little, but it wasn’t anywhere near full. The alcohol had softened Pat’s rough edges a bit, and he had taken his glasses off, leaving Brian to feel slightly intimidated by his intense stare. A more relaxed Pat seemed exponentially more relatable to Brian, and he suddenly felt the courage to ask something he’d been wondering since their lunch on Friday.

“Why were you so annoyed at me? That first day, I mean?”

Realistically, Brian knew it had been longer than a day that Pat had been hostile towards him. Pat had practically ignored him when they were first introduced and had been cold towards Brian right up until the end of the week before – over a month.

Pat didn’t seem at all offended by the question.

“Honestly? I’ve had a shit-ton of work to do lately, and I knew a new kid would just make my life harder.” Brian flinched a little, and Pat gave him a sympathetic look.

“I’m sorry, man. We just get a lot of newbies who last a week then decide they can’t cut it. And you don’t exactly look…” Pat gestures vaguely at Brian’s youthful face and unkempt blond hair. “… y’know. I guess I thought that getting to know you would be a waste of time. I’m sorry, dude.”

Pat felt awful, watching Brian’s dejected face.

“It’s not your fault, I kinda tried to tell you that on Friday. I’m just old and grumpy, I guess.” Pat chuckled, taking another mouthful of his beer.

 “To be honest, I’ve been so stressed lately I can’t even sleep.  We’re doing well, so we’re getting loads of extra work, but it ends up going to me. The others are amazing, they really are, but they’ve got lives outside of work. Allegra and Simone, even Clayton, they sort of set boundaries? I’ve never done that, but now it’s getting too much.”

Brian suddenly felt helpless, his unhappiness with his own situation morphing into empathy for Pat. Should he have noticed sooner? The voice of reason in his head (who often sounded a lot like Laura) reminded Brian that he barely even knew Pat. Let alone a relaxed, pre-stress Pat.

“Why don’t you tell Tara?” Brian suggests, and Pat seems to appreciate the idea, even if it’s immediately dismissed.

“She’s as busy as I am. I can’t just stop, either. That’s kind of why we hired you,” Pat paused for another drink, “I’m just not very good at giving up control.”

They sat in silence for a second as a waiter took their empty plates, leaving them both to ruminate on what Pat had said. Brian tried not to dwell on any less savoury implications his mind came up with. When their table had been cleared, Brian spoke.

“I do want to help, you know? If you’ll let me, I mean.” Both men cradled their drinks, looking down at the half-empty glasses.

“Yeah. I think so. I’d like you to help. I think you’ll be a really good investigator. Simone thinks so too, she told me that after your interview with her.”

The confidence of the two senior investigators definitely buoyed Brian’s spirits, but he tried not to express that to Pat for fear of seeming like an overexcited kid. Instead, he took the chance to change the subject.

“So, uh, can I ask… are Simone and Allegra like, a thing?”

 

* * *

 

After another couple of hours they were both shocked by how quickly the time had slipped by. Agreeing that neither of them needed a worse hangover the next morning they parted ways, leaving Brian to wander the few blocks home contemplating what had happened.

 

* * *

 

Those drinks proved to be the turning point for Pat and Brian. The following weeks brought more conversations around the coffee machine, a couple more visits to the same bar, and lunches together in the building cafeteria. Gradually Brian felt more and more comfortable interrupting Pat for advice, help with work, or even just a chat. Pat began to tackle his anxieties about delegating work, and let Brian help him with the simpler paperwork on some major cases. The Wright missing persons case went to court about six weeks after the initial investigation, and Pat and Brian met at the courthouse in their most formal suits.

“We’re just here in case they need questions about the evidence answered, okay?” Pat told Brian, trying to calm him down. As usual, the hearing was late in starting and it was seriously worrying Brian.

Unfortunately, it didn’t really reduce Brian’s stress. Until the court session began, Brian freaked out about every possible facet of the case. Did he mislabel a piece of the evidence? Were any of their interview questions too leading? What if their argument fell apart during cross examination? Or the case got thrown out?

Pat remembered his first few trials being intimidating, but he’s sure he wasn’t as nervous as Brian at any of them. Ultimately, this was a fairly low-stakes case – with all the risk on the part of the insurance company they were being paid to help represent.

Pat usually found himself wishing he could play on his phone while watching proceedings, but Brian’s bouncing leg and restless shuffling forced him to be more present. He tried not to get annoyed at the new detective. He knew how worried Brian had been about this, and that Brian had been politely rejecting offers from other investigators to go to court for the first time with them. When a break was called Pat took the opportunity to ask Brian to calm down.

“I’m sorry man. I’m just, really worried, y’know? What if I got something wrong? What if I messed the whole thing up.”

Pat’s first instinct was to point out that it was a pretty simple case, and realistically most of their work would be largely ignored by both the prosecutors and the judge. The majority of the evidence came directly from the police department. However, he knew that wouldn’t help Brian’s nervousness.

“I know, but you did great. We double checked everything. It’ll be okay, alright?”

Brian nodded frantically, more to try and convince himself than Pat. As the session was resumed, Brian still looked pale and picked at his nails. Hours later, when the verdict was read, Pat was fairly convinced that Brian was about to pass out. The skin around his nails way peeled and bleeding, and Brian himself was looking ghostly white and breathing shallowly. Pat grabbed one of Brian’s trembling hands between his as the judge spoke and tried to indulge him with a comforting smile.

 

* * *

 

Obviously, they won the case easily. Before they left the courtroom Pat took Brian to speak briefly to the lawyers representing their client, who grimly informed them of their intention to take the extended family to court for perverting the course of justice.

Pat was quick to reject their offer for a celebratory meal, sensing that Brian wouldn’t be able to cope with much more work-talk for a while. Instead, the two of them made the trip back to one of Pat’s regular haunts – another Irish-style bar relatively close to work.

After he’d bought them both a drink, Pat found Brian at a table in the darker side of the bar. Brian took a deep drink almost as soon as it was set on the table, and Pat gave him a moment to collect himself.

“You okay, buddy?”

Brian sighed.

“Listen, I’m sorry. I know I was annoying, I just… wasn’t expecting that to freak me out as much as it did. Law courts are kind of a _thing_ for me, y’know?” Brian looked so downtrodden it broke Pat’s heart a little. This was a far cry from the bubbly, excitable Brian he’d known for the last month and a half.

“No… its… it is scary. I get it.” Brian looked unconvinced, so Pat broke out one of his more mortifying anecdotes from his trainee years. “My first time in court I left my phone on, and it rung at full volume. Plus, my ex-girlfriend was on the opposition’s legal team. She glared at me the whole time. And they ended up winning. So, you did better than me, kid.”

Brian at least looked up during Pat’s story, giving him a hollow laugh. Pat raised his glass in a toast, giving Brian a cheeky smile.

“We did it! We won! Told you we would.” Pat enthused, and Brian returned the gesture reluctantly. After they both drank, Pat tried a different tact.

“Don’t worry, we don’t have to do that much. Honestly, most cases never get as far as court. Those legal fees are a bitch.”

Brian snorted, “Well thank god for that. I’m sure it probably gets easier.”

When Pat gave him a nod in agreement, Brian seemed to cheer up.

“Hey, Pat? Can we order food? I’m starving.”

 

* * *

 

After Brian’s traumatic court visit, Pat made sure to keep an eye on him at work. He was embarrassed to say he’d never considered how nerve-wracking the more serious side of the job could be for a new detective. Despite his outward confidence, Pat was steadily realising that Brian felt deeply uncomfortable a lot of the time, and often struggled with the stress of the job. So, he made the conscious effort to check in with Brian daily. Discouraging him from a fourth cup of coffee, forcing him to take breaks to stretch, or even making him pull the odd ‘sick day’. Honestly, looking after Brian at work was improving Pat’s own bad work habits.

When their next big court day rolled around Pat met Brian early for a proper lunch, and they went out after for another rounds of drinks (which eventually turned into dinner). Twice was enough to form a habit, and even other detectives were dragged into their court-day-ritual.

Even on a regular day, a couple of times a week, Brian and Pat tried to get out of the office for lunch or an afternoon drink.

As the months sped by Pat and Brian found themselves paired up for cases more and more. Pat seemed to be making more of an effort to help Brian learn, and Brian found himself looking forward to seeing his teammate every morning. For his part, the younger detective had become more aware of Pat’s moods and avoided things which he knew triggered a bad reaction.

Their efficient teamwork and delegation meant they had the highest solve rate in the department, though Pat – at Brian’s insistence – made sure to tell management when the workload became overwhelming. During Tara’s annual ‘office reorganisation week’ they found their desked shoved together, mirroring Allegra and Simone’s set up, which only served to further establish them as a team.

 

* * *

 

Inevitably, one mid-May week, the paperwork piled up faster than they could complete it. The deadline for court documents was midday on Friday, so Pat and Brian came to the silent understanding that neither of them would be leaving on time that Thursday.

When the clock hit 8pm, there were very few other people in the office. The only ones who hadn’t yet gone home were Allegra and Jenna. Allegra was working towards the same deadline as Pat and Brian, struggling with the workload as Simone was on sick leave. Jenna was taking the opportunity to catch up on ordering lab supplies, pulling at her hair as the process seemed ridiculously convoluted and difficult.

Pat would ordinarily have taken the work home hours ago, happy to finish it alone, but he felt a responsibility to stay with Brian for as long as he was willing to work. Finally, Brian reached across the table to catch Pat’s attention. “Do you mind if we order some food, or something? I’m kind of starving.”

Pat took a moment to save the document he was working on, before closing his laptop and leaning back in his office chair.

“How many files have you got left?” he asked Brian, stretching his neck from side to side.

“Uhh… due tomorrow? About five,” Brian replied, voice inflected with worry.

Pat sighed, “Same. Honestly, I think we’re gonna be here a few more hours.”

Brian groaned, “Then we’re definitely getting food. What exactly do you have left?” After a quick discussion they ascertained that neither of them had any work that couldn’t be taken home, but that they needed to work together on most of the case reports. By the end of the conversation Pat had already opened his laptop and continued typing. Not wanting to push the issue, Brian decided to ignore the hunger pangs he was feeling and continue to work.

The office further emptied as the sun set, and eventually Allegra gathered a huge stack of files and hauled them into her arms.

“Hey you guys, I’m gonna head out now. Are you planning on staying here all night?” She leant against Brian’s desk as she chatted to them and Brian was grateful for the excuse to take a break.

“It’s looking that way,” he sighed, seeing if Pat had looked up from his work. When Pat didn’t respond Allegra gave Brian a sympathetic look.

“See you later then, bye.” She made her exit, struggling under the weight of the folders she was carrying. With an awkward wave goodbye to Allegra, Brian sighed loudly and turned back to his desk. He was struggling to focus his tired eyes on his screen, words blurring and hurting his head.

Finally, Pat spoke up. “Hey dude, ‘wanna just head home? This is ridiculous.”

“No! I mean, I do want to go home, but we’ve got to get this done and I’m not about to leave you alone to finish it.” Brian’s reply was sincere, even through his exhaustion.

“I really appreciate that. Do you at least ‘wanna head to mine, though? Pick up some food and work somewhere more comfortable?” Pat sounded slightly sheepish, and honestly Brian hadn’t even considered that Pat had an apartment before. In Brian’s mind he only existed at their office and the cheap dive bars they visited.

“Uh, yeah. Is that alright?”

“Totally! My roommate’s away so you can stay over, if you want? Maybe go grab a change of clothes to head straight to work tomorrow? It’s fine if not, don’t worry about it I guess.”

Brian was taken aback but he didn’t want to let Pat down. Also, he was really fucking sick of the office’s gross, industrial lighting and noisy aircon.

“No, sounds good. Which files do we need to take?”

 

* * *

 

As it turned out, Pat and Brian lived pretty close together – both a short walk from the Irish bar they frequented. After getting on the subway together they agreed that Brian would head home first, heading over to Pat’s once he’d picked up everything he’d need to work late. For his part, Pat stopped to get them takeout and some beers before rushing home to tidy his flat.

When Brian showed up half an hour later – freshly showered with an overnight bag – Pat had hidden all his dirty laundry and given his cat a stern pep talk on being polite to strangers.

“Hey! Got everything?” Pat greeted.

“Yeah. Who’s this?”

As expected Charlie had already forgotten his cat-behaviour instructions, and was winding himself around one of Brian’s legs. Pat relieved Brian of his bags and introduced him to Charlie, closing the door behind them. They divided up the food and cans of beer before settling on Pat’s couch, leaving the work on the kitchen counter for later.

“So, where’s your roommate?”

Pat waited to finish his mouthful before he replied. “He just got engaged, so they’re staying up with his fiancée’s parents. Means I get the place to myself, I guess.”

Pat shrugged, not really giving Brian much to go on.

“Oh, cool.”

He let the silence sit for a while before starting a conversation about Charlie. They had time to discuss their respective roommates, cats, and colleges before the food ran out.

“We should probably do some work, huh.” Pat took their takeout containers and returned with the paperwork they had brought over. Brian was sorry to see their conversation end, but accepted that they had a deadline to meet, grabbing his laptop before they settled in for the night to work.

Brian had stayed over in Pat’s roommate’s room before running into work early the next day to return the papers they had finished. Pat had barely been awake when he left, only following Brian into the office a couple of hours later. Tara didn’t mind at all, impressed they’d actually got the work done, but gave them a stern instruction not to fall behind again. That lunchtime the entire firm went out together, all celebrating the finished cases they could now be paid for. Pat sat opposite Brian and praised his hard work in front of their colleagues, and for the first time Brian felt like he might belong with this group of incredible people. Any thoughts of being a hinderance to his teammates dissipated that afternoon as their kind words finally sank in, and he spent the rest of the day walking on air.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brian finally gets to go away on one of the firm's biggest cases of the year,

The next month the firm hired a new detective. They were even less experienced than Brian had been, eager to impress, and afraid of fieldwork. It was the perfect opportunity for the more senior detectives to offload deskwork, and Tara even suggested that Brian should do the same to spend more time working cases. So, with their expense claims being filed by the newbie, the firm could take on an even more impressive workload. Tara had decided to group him and Pat for some more serious cases, even going so far as to assign them the biggest investigation of the year – in conjunction with Simone and Allegra.

They needed to travel upstate to do the footwork for this job, referred to only as ‘The Powell Case’, so Tara had planned for the four of them to spend the week investigating in the area. So, on the first Monday of June, Brian and Pat left the office at 5pm (actually on time, for once) to drive to the hotel. The girls picked them up in the busy rush-hour traffic and crawled out of the city surrounded by taxis and angry commuters.  

Despite the slow journey the four of them in a car felt cheery, with Allegra in the driving and Simone controlling the radio from the passenger seat. The two girls laughed and joked the whole way, getting increasingly loud as Simone tried to navigate the busy New York streets. It was the most animated Brian had ever seen Allegra. Brian and Pat ended up crammed in the back seats, separated by a stack of reference books, case files and laptops. Simone and Allegra had left work early to rent the car, choosing a shiny new 4x4 that could fit all their suitcases thrown in the trunk. It almost had enough leg room for Pat, too.

Gradually the vista outside transitioned from urban grey to sparse greenery, the Hudson occasionally visible in the distance out of Brian’s window. The chatter from the front of the car died down as the sun set and Brian found himself falling asleep, face jolting against the window.

They had just taken an exit off the interstate when a particularly rough bump in the road woke Brian. He looked around the dark car bleary eyed, squinting at each bright pair of oncoming headlights they passed. Pat was leaning forwards between the front seats, chatting to Simone about the route. Allegra was focusing on the bends of the unlit road, occasionally commenting on the conversation going on next to her. Brian slouched towards the middle of the car, brushing against Pat.

“Look who’s awake!” Pat smiled. As Brian had come to learn, he was always merrier in the evenings. Usually, the later into the night they worked the friendlier Pat was – he’d be at his most energetic when Brian could barely keep his eyes open. Simone was more like Brian, always coming into the office enthused about her work and excited to see everyone. Allegra balanced Simone out, being consistently mellow throughout the day. Now, she seemed to be inviting Brian into the conversation.

“We were just talking about what to do when we get there,” she explained, slowly and clearly to let Brian get a little more awake. Pat answered for him.

“I was thinking you and me could do the house exploration, look through the documents, while Simone and Allegra talk to the client?”

Brian wracked his brain to remember exactly who the client was meant to be. From Tara’s briefing, he knew they were gathering evidence for a breach of contract lawsuit. They were driving to the sprawling family farm where the conflict took place, occupied by farmhands and the daughter of the recently deceased farm owner, Robert Powell. Their client was the young woman who had been written out of her late father’s will just a few weeks before his death, meaning she was unable to continue her artisan farm shop business.

None of the investigators were quite sure what to think of the whole thing, but this family had money and the lawyers were paying them handsomely to dig up anything that might cast suspicion on the last-minute will (meaning that their client, the daughter, could inherit the land). The whole thing seemed convoluted and petty to Brian, but an all-expense-paid trip to the countryside wasn’t the worst way to could spend the work week.

Once they turned off the road there was a distinct lack of other cars, and Allegra had managed to find the full-beam headlights. The decision had been made to head straight to their hotel, and Simone was on her phone trying to figure out if they’d missed the turn.

“Where are we staying?” Brian tried not to sound like a whiney child, but he was sick of the travelling and just wanted to go to sleep.

“Some crappy motel,” Allegra told him, staying focused on the road as she made another turn.

“It’s like a mile away. Tara booked it,” Simone explained, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

 

* * *

 

They pulled into the motel parking lot only a few minutes later, and Brian was the only who seemed surprised at the old, run-down appearance of the place. Pat must have noticed him staring up at the cracking plaster and barred windows, because he gave Brian a gentle nudge.

“Rock ‘n’ roll, huh?”

Brian chuckled weakly, dragging himself out of the car to help unload their suitcases. Simone and Allegra were bickering over paperwork, and Brian felt useless as Pat intervened – jokingly joining Allegra in ganging up on Simone. Eventually, the reservation information was located (in Simone’s bag) and the four of them made their way into the three-storey building.

It was smaller than any hotel Brian had stayed in before, the abandoned reception area doubling as a bar. The stress of travelling was getting to him, and he found himself getting grumpy as the others waited politely for an employee to arrive. He found himself a seat while Pat, Simone and Allegra chatted to the friendly receptionist who appeared. She rummaged around behind the desk for their keys while the detectives asked about the area, and Brian knew it was poor form to be so uninvolved on the first day. But his phone was dead, he was hungry, and he desperately needed a nap.

Finally, Allegra came to fetch him, and they made their way up a flight of stairs – all struggling with their heavy suitcases. Pat and Simone were up ahead, keen to get to their rooms and unload the additional bags of case notes they were carrying.

“You okay?” Allegra asked softly, so the others couldn’t hear. She had stayed at the back of the group with Brian, obviously worried about him.

Brian tried desperately to sound cheery, not wanting his colleagues to be concerned.

“I’m good,” he told her, “just tired.”

 Allegra gave a sympathetic nod, and Brian tried not to feel pathetic for being the weak link in their group. He had thought that the feeling of inadequacy around more seasoned private investigators had passed, but instead it was back in full force. His head hurt, he didn’t care about the case, and he just wanted to sleep.

Brian was grateful that Pat had requested separate rooms for the two of them. Simone and Allegra seemed used to sharing, getting a huge room with two double beds and enough surfaces to create a temporary office. Pat led Brian further down the same corridor to their rooms, which were a few doors down from each other. The 70s décor was hideous, but Brian couldn’t care less as long as he had somewhere to sleep. While Pat barely took the time to drop his bags into his room before dashing out to get food, Brian excused himself for the night, plugged his phone in, and fell into bed.

 

* * *

 

Brian woke up the next morning to a phone call. He felt like hell, head aching, but answered the call before trying to find something to drink. His throat was parched and he still the leftovers of last night’s headache.

“Hey! What’s up?” Pat’s voice greeted him. Brian took a moment to think of an acceptable response, cringing at how raspy and dry his voice sounded.

“Hi, what’s going on?” Brian dragged himself out of bed and over to the window, the closed curtains letting in far too much sunlight.

“The girls want to leave in a bit. I tried to get you a lie-in, but apparently we’ve got to go and ‘do work’, or something?” he laughed dryly. Brian was surprised by how cheery Pat seemed, particularly first thing in the morning. He forced himself to open the curtains, squinting at the bright summer sun.

“Okay, cool. When exactly do you want to leave?” Brian tried to look around the room for a clock, before realising he’d left his watch on the night before. Shit. It was 10am. He searched around for his suitcase, finding it lying on its side by the door.

“As soon as you’re ready, we’re all in Allegra and Simone’s room.”

Brian said a quick goodbye, already rushing to get ready. After a quick shower he dug through his suitcase for a work jacket and clean shirt, grabbing his phone and wallet before he left to try and find the others. In his exhaustion the previous night, Brian had failed to make a note of his colleagues’ room numbers. He wandered in laps around the floor of the hotel, not really sure where he was supposed to be going. The rows of cheap pine doors all looked the same, and an ugly patterned carpet wrapped around corners and staircases like a rash. Brian was about to call Patrick when he noticed one of the doors propped open, and peered in to see Pat, Allegra and Simone huddled around a table. The two girls were sitting on a bed, facing away from him, but Pat noticed Brian hovering by the doorframe and gestured him in. When Pat moved over to free up a chair for him, Brian suddenly felt nervous again.

The familiarity between his teammates was intimidating, and Brian felt like he was intruding just by being there. He took a seat, apologising for being late.

“Nah, it’s cool.” Allegra told him, “We needed to sort out some stuff anyway.” Brian was initially worried that Allegra was holding back information from him, but Pat reassured him.

“It was super boring, you didn’t miss anything.”

Simone had been rummaging around in a bag on the ground and produced a handful of something messily wrapped in napkins. “We stole some breakfast for you!” She whispered conspiratorially, like someone might be listening. She smiled at him as she passed over the slightly suspect looking bundle. Brian took it tentatively, trying to give Simone a sincere _thanks._ After skipping dinner and breakfast he found himself actually looking forward to whatever it was they had snuck out of the breakfast buffet (which he had definitely missed).

“Was it busy, at breakfast?” he asked, trying to find include himself in the group by catching up on what he had missed.

“Nah,” Pat answered, “I’m pretty sure we’re the only people staying here.”

“Honestly, the owner _might_ be a ghost.” Simone added. While the others told him about the servers they’d met at breakfast, Brian worked his way through the pastries he’d been given. Despite being cold, and a little on the stale side, Brian was grateful for his co-workers’ consideration. He also got some insight into what the others had been up to the night before: mostly chatting, playing cards, and lamenting that they hadn’t brought any drinks with them.

“We were thinking of getting some supplies after work tonight, if that’s cool with you?” Simone asked him. Brian nodded with a mouthful of croissant, holding up a thumb to show his enthusiasm. Once he’d finished eating the others got ready to go, clearly only waiting for him. They all gathered by the stairwell, giving Brian time to run back to his room. When they finally left, Pat driving this time, Brian ended up in the backseat with Simone.

She explained the plan for the day (meet the client; scope out the house; get some local gossip) whilst Allegra directed Pat to the farm where they were meeting the client.

“She’s still living here while the court case goes through. She was resident when the guy died, so they need to get an eviction notice to get rid of her.” Pat explained, overhearing Brian’s question.

“What’s her name again?”

“Autumn.” Allegra answered this time.

Simone groaned. “Who the fuck names their kid Autumn?”

“It’s a nice name!” Allegra argued, and Brian noticed Pat was careful to stay uninvolved. Once the debate began to escalate, Brian tried to change the subject.

“So, when did all you guys meet each other?”

The story he got in response was a hot mess, told by three different narrators, and punctuated with laughter, in-jokes and arguments. Finally, Patrick tried to explain it in a way that Brian could follow.

“I’ve been at the firm forever, because I am an old man,” Pat told Brian solemnly, with Simone and Allegra laughing.

“I’ve been there almost as long as you have, bitch!” Simone argued, loud enough to make Brian wince a little. “Allegra joined a few years later, she’s a baby.”

Allegra nodded sagely, now turned almost completely backwards in the front seat, while Pat kept glancing at them in the rear-view mirror. They were on a dusty road through farmland, bumping over potholes in some places.

“And you two just… clicked?” Brian asked, a little tentatively, trying not to cross a line.

Simone and Allegra both exchanged a look around the headrest, smiling.

“Yeah, I guess you could say that!” Simone smiled.

“Tara paired us up, and Simone trained me.” Allegra laughed, before turning to stage-whisper to Brian. “And now I’m the better detective.”

Simone scream-laughed, pretending to be shocked. “You bitch!”

Pat and Brian exchanged a look in the rear-view mirror, both chuckling at the other two detectives. “Did you ever meet Griffin?” Pat asked Allegra, who shook her head. He explained to Brian, “Our boss was a real hard-ass back then. Tara is super nice, in comparison.”

“She is super nice,” Simone agreed, “Even if she books us crappy motels.”

Eventually they arrived at the farm, pulling up outside an impressive red-brick building. It looked out over fields of corn and root vegetables that Brian couldn’t identify, surrounded by silos and barns. It was all a little more industrial than the quaint, family business he had imagined. Nonetheless, there was a certain beauty to the exposed metal of agricultural equipment under the glare of the sun. Once again, Brian found himself the last person in the car as the others were already outside. He joined their huddle as they referenced the maps and notes they had collected.

“So, we’re gonna go talk to the client, Autumn, first. She knows we’ll be here today, so hopefully we can find her. After that we can decide what to do about the other key witnesses.” Allegra explained, specifically checking Brian was listening.

“What are we trying to get evidence supporting, again?” Brian felt indescribably stupid asking simple questions, but his fear of screwing up this case surpassed any worry about looking dumb or inexperienced.

“That Autumn works hard on the farm, and that her dad would never write her out of the will.” Pat lowered his voice, “and that her mother probably tricked him into making a new will just before he died.”

Brian was careful to store that information away carefully, and it reminded him to grab his notebook from the car. As he closed the car door, he noticed a young woman striding between two fields towards them. He nudged Pat to get his attention, not feeling it was his place to greet her.

“Hey there!” Pat said, loud enough to interrupt the rapid conversation between Simone and Allegra. His gruff ‘work voice’ was starting to freak Brian out less, but it was still jarring compared to his normal, softer tone. The woman waved back, speeding up her pace.

Brian assumed this was Autumn. She wore green overalls, that Brian thought seemed equally fashionable and practical. Her bare arms and face were tanned and freckled, and her hair was sun-bleached. She wore heavy work boots that were muddy from use, muscled arms making Brian feel especially skinny and pale. She was obviously no stranger to farm work, squinting slightly but not even sweating in the afternoon sun.

“Hey, how’s it going folks?” She greeted each of them individually, introducing herself and repeating their names back. Brian was last, slightly hidden behind Pat, and he cringed at the strength of her handshake.

“Autumn.” She greeted him, and Brian stuttered a little before replying.

“Hey, I’m Brian. Nice farm.” Simone snorted a little at his lame introduction, but Autumn seemed to accept the compliment. 

“Thank you. Y’all drive in today?” No one else replied, so Brian assumed they were waiting for him to.

“Last night, actually. We’re staying at the Red Roof Lodge, if you know it?” Brian was worried it was bad detective etiquette to say that much, but Autumn appeared honest enough. 

She gave a knowing laugh, “Oh, classy.”

“Yep.” Brian gave her a grim smile back. “At least it’s quiet.”

Autumn laughed again, and Brian saw the three other detectives watching him intently.

“‘Wanna head back to the house?” Autumn suggests, and Brian nods.

“Lead the way!” Pat tells her, before giving Brian an encouraging tap on the shoulder. He follows directly behind Autumn, with Pat and the two girls trailing behind a little.

“This was dad’s house,” Autumn explains, only loud enough for Brian to hear. Mr. Powell had clearly looked after his land meticulously, and the house was no exception. Despite a little peeling windowsill paint, there was clear attention to detail in the decoration and the house was a long way from disrepair. Brian followed as Autumn leads them around the side to a barn. Up close, Brian would see it had been converted into a living space with glass doors and windows. The side door on the house was unlocked, and it opened into a mudroom filled with shoes and overalls. Autumn roughly shucked off her work boots before moving into the house, letting Brian and the others inside.

“This is nice!” Brian commented, not sure what else to say. The room was configured as an open plan kitchen/lounge, with quaint wooden counters and furniture. There was no technology in sight, making the room feel empty to Brian’s eyes.

“Thanks. Dad built it for me when I turned 18, so I got to move out on my own a little bit, y’know?” Brian gave a sympathetic hum, trying to sound understanding.

“That’s super cool of him.”

“Yeah, he was a really great dad.” she looked down sadly, and Brian regretted prying. He gave her a gentle touch on the arm, and Autumn looked up at him appreciatively. He felt a little uncomfortable and retreated once Pat and the others made their way over the threshold.

“Do y’all want some tea?”

Autumn busied herself in the kitchen, and Pat lead them to perch on the sofas. He encouraged Brian to sit alone, on the patchwork loveseat, opposite the remaining three detectives (who were crammed onto a matching sofa). Simone gave Brian a knowing look, which he failed to decipher until Autumn returned. She put the tray of tea on a table between them, and sat a little closer to Brian than strictly necessary.

“So, Autumn,” Allegra started, “we’re here to help you.” The blonde woman nodded slowly, eyes downcast.

“We’re here for a week, and we plan to get interviews with people who’ve worked on the farm, and who knew your father, to make sure we can get enough evidence for the case.” There was already a slight wobble in Autumn’s chin, and Brian could see Pat staring coldly past her out the window.

“Do you have a list of people we could talk to?” Simone asked, sounding quieter and more soothing than Brian had ever heard her. It was interesting to see his colleagues working with clients – from Pat’s ‘Bad Cop’ character to Simone’s softly-spoken alter-ego. Allegra was the only one who seemed largely the same, her kind-hearted nature shining through a bored sounding voice. Autumn seemed to respond most positively to Simone and Brian, shying away from Pat’s hard stare.

“I can give you some names,” she said timidly, mostly addressing Brian again. He held out his notebook for her to take, and she began to write down farm workers’ full names and phone numbers, referencing the cracked screen of her cell phone. The inspectors exchanged silent looks as she produced the list, each obviously raising their eyebrows at Brian whilst Autumn was distracted. He rolled his eyes at them, smiling slightly. Despite their teasing. He was pleased that they were pushing him to be so involved, even letting him lead this part of the interview. 

Autumn thrust the notebook and pen back into Brian’s lap, and he thanked her quietly. As Brian looked over the list, Patrick outlined their plans for the next few days.

“Once we’ve worked our way through this list we’ll come back and have a proper talk.” He told her solemnly, and it took Brian back to their first investigations together – where Pat would be so inhumanly serious it scared him a little. They agreed on a time the next day before Autumn led the four detectives out of the house. In the shuffle, Pat pulled Brian close to him and whispered, “Get a house key.”

Pat walked off ahead like nothing had happened, thanking Autumn for her hospitality before giving Brian a pointed look.

Brian did as he was told, giving Autumn a parting hug once she’d rooted around for a spare key to the main farmhouse and pressed it into his hand. He felt uncomfortable at being singled out to ask, knowing Pat was manipulating Autumn through her apparent fondness for Brian, but ultimately the impressed look from his co-workers made it worth it. He knew it was the best way to help her anyway, to let them snoop around without interruption or monitoring.

An afternoon was spent walking around the site, introducing themselves to the farmhands in ambiguous terms. Both Simone and Pat took photos of things they deemed to be important, some of which made absolutely no sense to Brian. Allegra took a couple of scenic photos, but mostly walked behind the other two with Brian, taking notes and sketching out a map.

Once they’d found a few topics in common (cats, family, video games) Brian found himself warming to Allegra and her dry humor. A few times they had laughed hard enough to earn dirty looks from Simone and Pat, who were held in a quiet, serious, non-stop conversation about various theories, similar cases, and legislation. Brian was sure he could see them laughing at jokes they overheard, though.

The day passed quicker than Brian could have predicted, and soon they were all piling back into the car. Simone, in the passenger seat once again, managed to locate a store only a few miles away and directed Pat. Brian and Allegra were both silent in the backseat, but Brian felt infinitely more relaxed with his companions than he had on the drive that morning.

The store was a mad rush, and any illusions of Pat being a responsible, wise or serious influence were quickly shattered. Between the four of them, the cart was stacked full with sugary foods and carbs that would put any college student to shame. Brian bought a single bag of fruit to make himself feel better about the whole thing. They made another stop at a small local liquor store, which mostly sold fancy beers and spirits that none of them had any interest in. Allegra, Simone and Brian hunted to find the cheapest booze in the shop, hauling it into a cart. Pat wandered off from them, managing to find some expensive bottles of hoppy beer. Once the others had paid Pat engaged in a serious conversation about beers with the hipster-looking middle-aged store owner. Bored and waiting near the door, Simone entertained the others by imitating Pat for the duration of his discussion. Allegra and Brian teared up trying not to laugh, covering their faces and turning away every time Pat twisted around to glare at them.

When they finally left the huge trunk was nearly full, and Simone and Pat struggled to retrace their route all the way back to the motel.

The absence of an elevator was made painfully clear as the four of them dragged everything upstairs and into Simone and Allegra’s room, and they piled their groceries and notebooks onto the table before collapsing onto chairs and beds. From his slumped position on a chair, Brian rummaged through the bags until he found a box of cookies. He grabbed a few, cramming one into his mouth before passing them around.

Pat was the last to be offered the cookies, and he took a few with a _thanks_. He was next to Brian, looking exhausted with hair messed up and glasses sliding down his nose. Allegra and Simone didn’t look much better, Simone barely able to sit up straight and Allegra had taken her glasses off, massaging her forehead. Brian didn’t want to piss any of them off, so just sat quietly and scrolled on his phone.

Brian was secretly pleased. His teammates’ trusting body language and comfortable silence affirmed the feeling of acceptance that he’d felt growing throughout the day. Starting with Simone saving him breakfast, continued with Pat pushing him to lead the interview, and finally his bonding with Allegra made him feel like he had real friends in the team. Allegra shuffling to get more food drew Brian’s attention away from his phone, and she took the opportunity to start a conversation.

“So… Autumn totally has a crush on you.” Allegra teased, looking up at Brian just to make him uncomfortable. He felt himself blush, trying to shake his head in a casual way. All the attention was on him now, Pat and Simone watching him closely.

“She’s cute!” Simone enthused, wiggling her eyebrows. When Brian looked to Pat for help, he just shrugged. “She even gave you a key to her house.”

With much pushing from Brian, conversation transitioned back to the case. They turned over the various theories each of them had, and their plan for the rest of week. On a few occasions Simone or Allegra ribbed him over Autumn’s ‘crush’ on him, but Brian was pretty sure from their tone that neither of them seriously believed he reciprocated. Pat would sometimes be dragged into the conversation by Simone or Allegra, but largely he sat back and played on his phone or just listened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your kudos/lovely comments! Hoping to get the rest of this up within the next 24 hours, but I'm working so we'll see lol.


	4. Chapter 4

The second day of their trip was most occupied by the interview with Autumn. Despite what he had told her yesterday, Pat had decided it would be best to get their first interview done before they were given any other conflicting statements or opinions from the less important witnesses.

Brian was joined by Simone, at Pat’s insistence. The team was composed with the client’s comfort in mind: they had noticed she was most forthcoming speaking to Brian, and Simone was needed because of her comprehensive experience. As they had discussed it Brian was careful to avoid the elephant in the room: how uncomfortable Autumn appeared to be around Pat.

Simone and Brian were dropped off outside the converted barn, and the other two detectives agreed to spend the day gathering evidence from the farmhands. Brian had been told, in no uncertain terms, that he was going to lead the interview. They had planned a few questions the night before, which Brian had scribbled down in the back of his notebook. Despite feeling silly pre-planning his interview questions, he knew it would be far more embarrassing to go blank at an inopportune moment. Plus, having a set script slightly quelled Brian’s anxiety over the day. He had been excited yesterday when the other investigators had nominated him as the _best_ person to talk to Autumn, but the pressure of their faith in him began to feel overwhelmingly heavy on the approach to the house’s side entrance.

They barely had to wait after Simone firmly knocked on the door, darting back to stand beside Brian. When Autumn opened the mudroom door, dressed in a practical smock with her hair neatly plaited, it looked like Brian had been the one who knocked. He felt awkward, smiling slightly before remembering to greet her.

“Hey! Uh, we’re here to do that interview? I think Simone called to say we were coming?” Brian cringed at how stilted he sounded, knowing his informality probably came across as unprofessional. Autumn didn’t seem at all comforted by this explanation but invited them in regardless. She waited until Simone closed the door behind them before heading into the living space, gesturing to Simone and Brian that they should sit on the larger couch. She settled on the opposite side of the table, facing them this time, plates of biscuits already laid out on the low table between them.

Remembering how Pat usually conducted his questioning, Brian jumped right in.

“So, Autumn, can you tell us about what’s been going on since your father passed away?”

Before she could answer, Simone jumped in: “Just to let you know, we have to record this. Just to make sure it gets copied up right, and stuff. Pretend the recorder isn’t there!”

She smiled easily as she balanced an old-school voice recorder on the table between them, and Autumn nodded back. Brian envied her confidence and tried to encourage Autumn to answer his questions. “My parents split up when I was a baby. The farm wasn’t doing so well, and mom couldn’t handle the stress, so she left. There’s no way he’d have left anything to her in the will.”

 

* * *

 

Later, listening back, Brian remembered how he had nodded. How he had tried to seem understanding without being pitying. “What is your relationship with your mother like?”

“She was never really around, even when I was a kid. I saw her at birthdays sometimes, we’d drive down to New York for dinner. Dad never really liked spending time with her. I haven’t seen her since dad died.”

Allegra’s typing accompanied everything Autumn said. They were sitting in the girls’ hotel room, circling Simone’s laptop where it sat on the table, listening to the recording from their earlier interview. Pat had his fingers steepled, staring down at the table as he listened. Simone and Brian were writing up shorthand notes, whilst Allegra had been tasked with transcribing the entire conversation. The interview had lasted almost an hour but listening back Brian thought it sounded like a whole day. He hated hearing himself recorded, but being surrounded by other people made it even more embarrassing. The recorded-Autumn continued talking, by this point in the interview (around twenty minutes in) she was speaking openly. Brian sat dreading the moment she had started crying, not wanting to relive the panic and discomfort he had felt.

“Can you tell me a little more about their relationship?” Brian had asked her.

“Like I said, they were together until I was about three. But mom found the farm too difficult to live on, and she left to live with one of her ex-boyfriends. I can’t really remember, but I know dad was really shaken up about it. He always sort-of blamed himself, thought that if the farm had made more money she would’ve stayed. I never really heard her side of it.”

“Have you spoken to your mother since the incident?” Listening back, the insensitive clinical terminology made Brian wince. He pretended to be writing something down.

“No. Obviously the first few days, she was still here. But after that she went back to L.A. Even before the funeral.”

There was a pause on the tape, and Brian knew he had been panicking – not sure what information to get from her.

“And she moved in after the first stroke?”

As they listened back to the conversation, Pat turned to look at Brian. He shot a slight glare at the younger detective, and Brian wasn’t quite sure whether to blame the leading question or the language he had used. Nonetheless, he shrunk back in his chair.

On the tape, Autumn seemed unhappy with the question too. There was a pause before she reluctantly replied.

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“At your dad’s request?”

She gave a short, bitter bark of a laugh.

“Nope. But she found out he was ill and decided that she _had_ to be involved. She flew in the next day.”

“And how long did she stay?”

“Until the second stroke. About a month, I guess?”

“In the main house?” Brian prompted.

“Yeah. Dad wasn’t happy, but he needed the help. I was busy with work on the farm, so she did actually make things easier. Still, he wouldn’t have put her back in the will.”

Autumn seemed to want to talk about her father’s will, the reason they were involved, so Brian conceded.

“Did you know about the changes?”

She gave another short, hollow laugh, “Not until he died.”

Brian pressed a little more on Mr Powell’s health, hearing about his hospital visit, medication, lack of subsequent aftercare, and the second stroke which caused his death. Finally, Autumn broke down and began to cry. There was a shuffle recorded on the tape as Simone had moved to comfort her, and Brian recalled fetching her tissues and water before cautiously holding her hands. They tried to continue the interview a little longer, Autumn determined to soldier on, until a question about her parents’ relationship in the months leading up to his illness and death made her to clam up completely.

Mercifully, Simone had stepped in to wrap up the interview, telling her: “That’s all we need from you for now. Thank you. This has been really helpful, and we’re ‘gonna sort this out for you.”

Brian thanked Autumn too, mostly grateful that the interview had ended. “Look after yourself,” he had told her, before the recording ended with a _click_. In the hotel room the four of them sat without talking for after the audio file went silent, a few seconds punctuated by rapid keystrokes as Allegra finished her transcript.

“You did a good job, Bri.” Pat told him dryly, standing to stretch before making coffee. Brian wasn’t sure if he was being sarcastic, but the two girls agreed, praising his interview technique.

“You were really encouraging! Autumn seems to fully trust you, Brian.” Simone told him, loud enough to make sure Pat heard her. Brian appreciated Simone trying to make him look better, but found it slightly embarrassing. Particularly because Pat hadn’t even been distracted from the instant coffee he was stirring. 

 “I think I went too far at the end, she was really shaken up when we left.” He tried to sound more humble than uncertain, hiding the emotion in his voice, and Pat was the one who answered this time.

“I would’ve done the same. Don’t worry about it. They always cry.”

 Brian was a little worried by the harshness of Pat’s response, and the group stayed quiet whilst Pat brought his drink back to the table. Pat spoke again.

“Have you got the full transcript?” he asked Allegra. She nodded.

“I’ll send it to you guys.”

Once more, Brian sat still and kept his mouth shut. He got the notification on his phone from Allegra’s email. He could still see the audio file on the laptop. Suddenly, he felt compelled to defend their client. 

“Inheriting the farm really means a lot to her. It’s her home, and her business is there. She’s been running the farm itself since her dad died.”

In an earlier part of the interview, and in their research notes, Brian had learnt about the online organic store she ran. She was overwhelmingly passionate about it, and Brian and Simone had been slightly surprised by how seriously she took it.

“Her mom seems like a real piece of work.” Allegra commented, re-reading the interview on her laptop.

“She definitely seems distant. Autumn didn’t really understand why she moved in after the stroke.” Brian told her. Even though the whole group had listened to the interview, he felt the most qualified to comment on Autumn and her motivations.

“I still want to know more about any potential medical negligence.” Pat stated. “The death was really conveniently timed.”

Allegra nodded in agreement, while Brian looked shocked at the suggestion.

“What’s the mother’s name?” Simone asked, busy writing down notes.

“Samantha,” Pat told her, without hesitation.

“She usually lives in L.A.” Brian added, “but it sounds like she travels a lot with her boyfriend.”

Pat scoffed. “Oh, and suddenly she cares about her ex-husband? Sure.”

Brian often found Pat’s cynicism exhausting, but it had been slightly less potent lately. Therefore, Brian was pretty sure that Pat _actually_ thought something fishy was going on. Simone and Allegra clearly felt the same way, and between them they speculated on what Autumn’s mother’s intentions might be.

“We should go look at the Powell’s house tomorrow.” Pat decided. Simone and Allegra agreed, and Brian felt he didn’t really have any say in the matter. The key he had been given was still in his bag, but he felt concerned about breaching the privacy of a grieving family.

“So, what are we looking for?” Simone started, and Allegra put her laptop away to fully pay attention.

“I think… we should try and find the doctors’ letters. Was there anything else the family kept back from us?”

Autumn had mostly been co-operative, giving the law firm any and all paperwork they had asked her for. However, similarly to the interview, she was very uncomfortable about anything related to her dad’s ill health and subsequent death.

After composing a list of evidence to look for, and places to investigate, the conversation turned to less professional topics. Brian tried to keep up, smiling at the inside jokes he didn’t get, just enjoying the company of the other detectives. He learnt that Simone and Allegra lived together, and that they were engaged in a long running argument over whether to get a dog or a cat. The boys both gave their insights, as cat owners themselves, and Pat seemed far more engaged in the conversation than the previous night. The alcohol they’d bought helped, making all of them more open and sociable, and they drank and snacked whilst emptying the shopping bags.

It felt like a cop-out, but Brian decided to call it a night around midnight. He had been struggling to keep his eyes open, trying not to drink too much lest he say something that would put the others off. Ultimately, he knew getting enough sleep would benefit him the next day, but he got teased nonetheless for leaving early (especially as he was the youngest). As Brian left he saw Pat open another beer, and worried about whether the other detectives would gossip about him after he left. Suddenly he felt very alone, walking through the vacant hotel corridor. His door opened with a _clunk,_ and Brian tried to busy himself with his bedtime routine as quickly as possible.

Lying in bed, he couldn’t help but let his mind wander. Would he ever feel like he belonged on this team? Did they want him here? A logical corner of his brain knew that he was very new, that the others had a lot of history, and that they had been kind to him for the entirety of the trip. Still, it hurt to be the odd one out.

 

* * *

 

When Brian’s phone alarm went off the next morning, it was 8am. He scrambled out of bed to turn the alarm off, eyes blurry and with sleep-heavy limbs. After the first embarrassing morning, he planned to try and wake up before the others every day. In the hour before breakfast he showered and checked his emails, seeing a couple from Jenna about another investigation they he was undertaking.  He made a mental note to ask her what she thought about Autumn’s case, knowing Jenna always made time to talk to him. She had been consistently approachable and helpful to Brian since he started working at the firm, and Brian considered her a friend even outside of work. She had also been understanding of the difficulties of working with Pat and advised him over lunches on a few occasions.

Brian headed down to the ‘restaurant’ early. It was essentially just a dining room, with a table that could seat around a dozen people. The motel owner gave him a smile so cold it looked sarcastic, and Brian hurried to pour himself a glass of room-temperature orange juice from the buffet.

Pat was the next to show up, almost twenty minutes later. Brian was done replying to emails, sitting at one of the large tables and absently scrolling through the news instead.

“Hey.” Pat grunted, voice raspy from not talking yet.

“Hey!” Brian stopped himself from talking too much in case Pat was hungover.

“Have you eaten yet?” Pat asked him, setting his phone and room key on the table.

Brian had been waiting for company, so he shook his head and followed Pat from the table. They got bowls of cereal and plates of toast from the buffet table, knowing that ordering a cooked breakfast was far more trouble than it was worth.

Over the last couple of days they hadn’t seen any other guests, and there were only few other cars left in the parking lot. Nonetheless, Brian knew it was standard company policy to act as though the walls had ears. He was pretty sure that the bored employees eavesdropped whenever they were nearby.

Steering away from potentially confidential information, Brian instead wracked his brain for something from last night to talk about.

“Who’s looking after Charlie?”

Pat finished chewing before answering, and Brian was pleased to find a topic that Pat was keen to share about. “My old roommate. He’s staying in the flat for a bit – I think he’s glad for an excuse to get out of wedding planning.”

Brian chucked along with Pat, sensing that there might be a story there. Before he could ask, Pat was showing him a photo on his phone. Charlie the cat was lying on his back on Pat’s bed, with an SNES controller positioned between his fluffy paws. Brian smiled, reading the caption below it:

_Like father like son_

It was still weird to think about Pat’s life outside of work. Brian had been to his flat, but only really so they could work more efficiently. Brian often felt like even their drinking sessions at the bar might be some kind of mandatory bonding sessions, potentially orchestrated by Tara. The softer side of Pat was always more visible when he was talking about his cat, and Brian had seen flashes of it on this trip while Pat was talking to the other detectives.

Brian wanted to capture the moment, to extend Pat’s openness with him. He hoped it wasn’t just because Pat was still groggy from sleep, or drunk from the night before. Brian was about to ask about the games console, keen to explore their common ground, when Allegra and Simone showed up. They efficiently gathered breakfast, Allegra getting coffee and fruit while Simone assembled trays of cereal and toast. Once again, Brian was in awe of how synchronised they were, wordlessly knowing what the other person wanted.

“You guys must be good roommates!” he remarked. The others exchanged knowing glances and struggled to keep straight faces before bursting into laughter.

Simone’s laugh was always jarring, but it seemed extra loud this morning. More unexpected was Pat’s deeper laugh, accompanied by Allegra’s, that Brian hardly ever heard. He still was smiling, wanting to feel part of the joke, but still wasn’t sure what was going on. It was only when Allegra calmed down enough to speak, the pieces clicked into place.

“You could say that.”

“Real good gal pals.” Simone added, slightly out of breath from her cackling.

When Brian looked over to Pat for some kind of help he only got a slightly bemused look. The penny finally dropped, and Brian blushed, before awkwardly laughing with them. Conversation flowed a little easier after that, Brian distracting from his slip up by asking more about their relationship. Pat mostly sat back and listened, sipping at his black coffee, but Brian could sense his contentment. He knew Pat was close with Simone and Allegra, particularly as he had trained alongside Simone.

In the stories that Simone would tell while they were skiving in the lab, or huddled around the coffee machine, Pat had never exhibited the same hostility towards her. The Patrick in her anecdotes sounded enthusiastic, outgoing, friendly. It made Brian wonder what had happened for Pat to react so badly to Brian.

For the duration of this trip, however, he had seen a glimpse of the person Simone had joked about. The younger version of Pat who had giggled over rookie mistakes as he and Simone tore around New York. Each time Pat helped tell a story, or cracked a joke, or smiled at Allegra’s case note annotations, Brian found it slightly easier to reconcile the man he had come to know at work with Pat ‘Wore Sunglasses on a Big Case To Hide His Hangover’ Gill in Simone’s stories.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> suicide mention tw (brief) on this chapter.   
> more notes @ the end

Brian had almost forgotten the embarrassing events of breakfast by the time they parked up outside Mr Powell’s farmhouse. He had intended to find Autumn and explain what they were doing, but Pat and Simone had quickly put a stop to that plan – instead bundling them quickly towards the side entrance of the main house. Brian handed over the keys, and Pat methodically tried each one until the door swung open. Pat rushed them inside, quietly closing the front door behind them.

The hallway was occupied with an old grandfather clock but was otherwise fairly drab. The wood cladding on the walls was slightly peeling, and the hallway was almost entirely dark with the front door shut. Pat, Simone and Allegra were already striding around the ground floor of the house, looking in rooms and getting their bearings.

Allegra had her phone out, taking photos of each room before they entered whilst Simone muttered observations – writing as she went. For his part, Pat was just rummaging in different rooms. Brian tried to join in, looking around without any real idea what he hoped to find. He tried to emulate the thoroughness and purpose Pat was searching with, but mostly just ended up tidying what the others had displaced. As Pat darted up the stairs, Brian followed him.

The wooden stairs creaked as Pat ascended to the next floor, his heavy boots making a loud ‘clunk’ with each step he took. Brian followed, a little more light footed, but the creaking meant Pat definitely knew he was there.

Pat held the door behind him as he entered the first room they found. It was a bedroom, adorned with flowery curtains and pale pink walls.

“The daughter’s old room, I guess.” Pat mused, turning to leave.

“Nothing in there?” Brian wondered, still struggling to find the reasoning behind Pat’s investigative technique.

“Don’t think so.” Pat brushed past Brian to get back to the corridor. “We can come back if I’m wrong.”

He could hear Allegra and Simone talking downstairs, muffled but echoing through the stairwell. It was weird hearing them talking work together, now they had confirmed a serious relationship. Brian admired their professionalism. Pat was still opening doors, leaving them lying ajar. When Brian tried to close one, wanting to cover their tracks, Pat stopped him.

“Sorry, I feel a bit weird being here. Without telling Autumn, y’know?” Brian told him meekly, stuck between wanting to impress Pat and not wanting to be rude.

“You just ‘wanna talk to her again.” Pat smirked, going into a room and looking out the window. The farm below was deserted, with only a scarecrow moving in the breeze and a tractor in the distance. The midday sun outlined Pat’s strong profile, his eyebrows furrowed as he squinted against the light.

Brian decided to clear this up once and for all.

“She’s not my type, just so you know.”

He approached Pat and stood next to him, watching birds as they circled over a freshly-planted field. Pat hummed noncommittally. Brian wasn’t sure what he had expected, Pat wasn’t exactly prone to encouraging the oversharing of personal information with his co-workers.

They were searching through the farm house’s messy home office when Pat continued the conversation, head buried in a disorganised filing cabinet. “Not into country girls, then?”

Brian forced himself to chuckle. He wanted to tell Pat _no,_ _not at the moment. Currently, I’m more into enigmatic city-slickers with deep voices and mysterious pasts._

Instead, he kept his mouth shut and continued searching. He was looking through the papers stacked on every surface for some kind of hint at a who might have had the will changed, for any of the type of clues that he had seen Pat use in previous cases. Not wanting to crowd the older detective (or be too close to him, right now) Brian entertained himself rifling through a stack of papers which were presumably destined for the bin. He moved the ream of paper off the top of the unplugged paper shredder, taking it out into the brighter light of the corridor to read. By now he had adopted Pat’s search-first-tidy-later methodology and didn’t hesitate to make a mess sorting through the documents. He separated out anything that might be important: doctors’ letters, legal correspondence, receipts, credit card statements (a favorite following his first case with Pat) and personal correspondence.

Brian slipped back into the office to return the not-useful remainder of the papers (largely consisting of undestroyed mail and bills) and got a grunt from Pat for his efforts. Not quite ready to try and force the older detective into conversation with him, Brian instead took his remaining findings downstairs to the kitchen.

The room was huge, easily the biggest in the house. There was a Dutch door leading directly out to the fields behind the house, and a huge handmade oak table in the centre of the room. Butchers’ knives lined one wall, others displaying old farm tools or industrial-sized cooking equipment. Simone and Allegra were in the living room and dining room respectively, searching in a far more careful and methodical way than himself and Pat.

When Brian dragged out a chair to sit on, the heavy wood against tile flooring made enough noise to draw the Allegra and Simone into the room. They both silently decided it was time for a break, simultaneously taking a seat around the table. Simone scrolled through the photos on her phone as Allegra examined the various sealed evidence bags she had collected. One appeared to contain a bottle of pills, others paperwork, some appeared empty but were neatly labelled as hairs or fibres. Allegra had informed Brian on a previous case that most of the DNA samples they collect never actually get examined (they’re not the police, after all). There’s rarely ever data to compare it to, and that kind of analysis is too expensive to be viable. However, lawyers usually found it difficult to defend guilty clients when they could be placed at a scene.

Simone retrieved a couple more evidence bags from her own backpack, adding them to the small pile Allegra had assembled in the centre of the table. Brian greeted both of them a little too enthusiastically, working hard to mask his growing imposter syndrome. They involved him in the conversation as they recapped: evaluating what they had found, discussing where they had and had not looked, making scathing criticisms of the decor.

The communication was encouraging, and much needed after he had to spend so much time second guessing what Pat’s intentions were. It was difficult to work with someone who hid as much as Pat did; he was often so stubborn about being right that he’d hide information from Brian rather than be wrong. Whilst Brian looked over the photos and notes Allegra and Simone were examining the papers he had found, taking half the pile each.

“It’s all probably irrelevant,” Brian had told them, desperately trying not to waste anyone’s time, “I haven’t even read them properly yet.”

The women ignored him, engrossed in cross-referencing every detail they read. Brian struggled to understand the quiet comments they exchanged, seeming to find invisible threads linking the contents of the incoherent assortment of letters Brian had curated. The ‘discard’ stack grew steadily larger as they found the documents most relevant to their case, and twenty minutes later a dozen sheets of paper were laid out on the surface of the table.

He knew this was the game they all relished, the exciting part of a case that made all the travelling and mundane desk work worth it. Brian watched on with interest, reading anything that Allegra pushed his way. He appreciated that they were trying to make him involved, and enjoyed slowly putting the pieces together himself.  Once they had formed an idea of what was doing on, they were keen to help Brian understand and decide his own opinion.  

 

A full two hours after they had entered the house, Pat joined the other investigators downstairs. He took the last seat at the kitchen table, carrying a small stack of papers with his phone balanced on top. Brian had frantically written down everything he’d noticed or learned, all the information that might be useful in a write-up or for his own future cases. The notebook was open on the table, and Pat tilted his head to read over what Brian had written. A look of genuine excitement flickered across Pat’s face, and he looked to Simone for an explanation of what they’d found.

Simone asked Pat what he had observed before she went through their evidence. He’d hear it all again later. Mostly, Brian focused on how Pat’s mouth moved, how he gestured around the papers that were still in his lap, on the hair left lying over Pat’s face. Brian had seen how Pat raked a hand through his shaggy brown hair constantly whenever he was stressed or thinking or bored, and it left frizzy (sometimes greasy) tracks behind it.

Pat explained how the signatures on pretty much every document since Autumn’s father’s stroke were forged, showing them the examples he had found. Brian himself could hardly make out the difference between old and new documents, but Allegra looked over them intensely, agreeing with Pat and noting discrepancies in the penmanship.

Dragging them back to the other findings the group had made, Simone explained to Pat the links they’d potentially discovered.

 

* * *

 

After another intense debate on how all the evidence was connected, Allegra and Pat were back to investigating the forged handwriting trail. Re-examining every single sheet of paper on the table. Brian found it all mind-numbing, and leant back from the table to clear his head. Simone caught his eye, giving him a knowing look that told him she was equally bored. When she excused herself to look at the office, Brian offered to go with her – telling himself it was to re-check the stack of documents he’d deemed unimportant.

However, when they reached the office Simone flung herself into the worn office chair, stretching both arms above her head. “Oh my god. I love them but Jesus fucking Christ that handwriting shit is _boring_.”

Brian let out a surprised bark of laughter, letting Simone finish her complaining.

“They’re both calligraphy buffs, its kinda weird. Cool though, I guess?”

“What are the chances?” Brian chuckled, matching Simone’s slightly exasperated tone.

Though Brian genuinely did look through that ream of paper again, most of the time upstairs was spent chatting to Simone. She was almost the polar opposite of Pat’s surly, quiet character and Brian loved having someone to chatter relentlessly with. As much as he found Pat interesting and engaging, he was often challenging for Brian to have real conversations with. Brian always wanted to talk about feelings, about worries, ask questions, and Simone indulged him happily.

“Do you think I pissed Pat off, today?” Brian asked, feeling confident that Simone would give him an honest-but-gentle answer. She also seemed to be the only person he had met who had a deeper understanding of Pat. Brian knew they’d been through some shit together. He always got the vibe that Simone knew far more than even Allegra or Tara about Brian’s de Facto mentor.

“No. Even if you did, I think you’re good for him.” Simone decided, with a certainty that Brian envied.

“Really? I’m pretty sure he wishes I’d leave him alone.” Brian stared down at the floor, trying and failing to inject a joking tone into his voice. Simone did laugh, quietly and more restrained than Brian usually heard her laugh outside of work. She sat up from her slouch in the chair to look more seriously at him.

“He probably does,” She agreed, “But he needs that. Someone to challenge him on his bullshit. I heard about what you said to him about the Wright case. It shook him up real bad. He called me, that night. I don’t think I’ve ever known him to call _anyone_ by choice.”

Brian smiled, familiar with _that_ particular Pat trait. He’d made countless phone calls on Pat’s behalf, usually following some weak excuse from the older man.

“I was just lucky I was right.” Brian dismissed, hoping against hope that what Simone is saying is true. She shook her head.

“You’re a good detective, Brian. We were all impressed with that Wright case solve. But to be honest, I think Pat was kicking himself for missing the obvious. He should’ve figured it out. That’s the only reason he was so mad at you. He’s been off his game for a while now, and he definitely knows it.”

Pat had occasionally mentioned a ’slump’ to Brian, but he’d dismissed it as another manifestation of Pat’s constant self-depreciation. He was intrigued to hear more.

“What’s throwing him off?” Brian tried to sound casual, but a side-eye from Simone told him it was still an intrusive question. Nonetheless, she answered, albeit quietly and carefully:

“We worked a case last year that was a bit too personal, and it really bothered him for months afterwards. Tara forced him to take vacation days and to see a therapist, but it didn’t really make a difference.”

“What happened?” Brian whispered, suddenly paranoid that they would be overheard.

“It wasn’t his fault, none of us saw it coming either, but Pat took it to heart. Essentially, we screwed up the case. The wrong person went to prison, and someone died, Brian.”

Her voice was thick with emotion, and Brian held his breath, waiting to hear more.

“We were working with the prosecutors, but ended up interviewing almost everyone involved in the case. One of the key witnesses was a teenage girl, and she was in the stand for the defence. Pat interviewed her a few times, and I think he always felt sorry for her. They never found out how, but two days after her step-brother’s conviction she disappeared. It took almost a month to find her body.”

“Suicide?”

“Pat always thought so. He volunteered for the teams looking for her. He barely slept for weeks, he’d spend all night combing parks and riverbanks with the search parties. When they found her we had to take turns forcing him to sleep and eat. He must have spent months obsessing over the case, and eventually he realised we’d been wrong. Put the wrong person in prison. He yelled and screamed at Tara until she agreed to call a re-trial. We all thought she was gonna fire him.”

She laughed dryly, while Brian still struggling to process what he was hearing.

“I’m only telling you this so you know where he’s coming from, Brian. He does like having you around, he just struggles to show it. He’s just not in a good place right now. The re-trial finished in November, the whole thing is still pretty raw.”

“Are _you_ okay?” Brian asked her, both worried and impressed by how easily she could retell the story.

“I wasn’t as involved as Pat. And _I_ actually listen to my therapist. Plus, I’ve got Allegra. I’m getting there.”

Brian nodded, trying to be both understanding and respectful of the situation.

“We should probably head back.” Simone reminded him, sighing, checking her eye makeup in her phone camera. It took a few seconds for Brian to bring himself back to reality before he followed Simone out the door.

The two descended the stairs together, Brian clutching a couple of used prescription copies he’d found screwed up in the waste paper bin. When they re-entered the kitchen, Pat and Allegra were typing furiously into their phones. They looked up when Simone and Brian seated themselves at the table, both offering him a grin.

“You’re a genius, Brian.” Allegra informed him dryly, a hint of pride in her voice.

Brian hardly felt like he had contributed to their breakthrough, but forced an excited smile anyway. “What did you find?” he asked them. Simone looks on fondly as Allegra explains what they’ve figured out.

“Right. So. We found a bunch of medications downstairs. The doctors’ letters Brian found don’t match don’t justify the quantities marked on the bottles, some of them were never opened, and some of the meds are still unaccounted for.”

Brian flattened out the prescriptions he’d found, laying them on the table in front of Allegra.

“Do they match these?” he asked, and Simone and Allegra immediately snatched up a sheet each – comparing them to the plastic-bag-wrapped pill bottles lying on the table. Pat looked on stone-faced, looking disinterested as he leaned back in his chair.

Evidence was shuffled around the table and notes were made as the three more interested detectives figured out which items were most suspect. They isolated two drugs, concluding that they would check with the more medically inclined colleagues about their uses. Pat occasionally read over what Brian had written down in his book. The group sat awhile, mulling over the findings. The diverse range of medications, the forged signatures, and an extensive collection of unsent letters circled around Brian’s mind. However, the puzzle of the case was overshadowed Simone’s story: still searing itself into his mind.

Finally, when no one had come up with anything new for a while, Pat suggested they leave. The others had no hesitations getting out of the house, jogging into different rooms to return the house to its original state. Pat wasn’t particularly invested in covering his tracks, instead wandering around the downstairs rooms he had missed earlier. When they gathered at the front door, Brian opened it first.  

They took a brief walk around the farmyard to justify their car being there, listening to the conspiracies of a few enthusiastic farmhands. They all had varying accounts of Samantha: from doting mother to a Cruella-de-Ville-style ‘city slicker’. Brian watched Pat even more than usual, noting the blank face he maintained and the eye-rolls he sent Simone’s way when anyone was particularly hysterical about their opinion.

Brian spotted Autumn as they bundled back into the 4x4 and she smiled back, already jogging across the field to meet them. He waited for her, holding the passenger door open, as the other three detectives already doing up seatbelts and adjusting their seats.

“Hey!” Autumn beamed at him, her deeply tanned face shaded by a baseball cap. Brian awkwardly leant on his car door as he greeted her back.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

“Good, good. Just busy. You guys all okay?” she ducked her head through the door to see the other detectives, who were looking a little bemused. Simone and Allegra were in the backseat, and Pat already had the car in gear. They mumbled back variations on ‘ _yeah, good’_ until Brian caught Autumn’s attention again.

“All good! We just had a wander around the farm, its looking nice.”

Brian didn’t know jack shit about farming, frankly, but Autumn took the compliment anyway.

“Thanks! We’re all working hard. Season’s just getting going, y’know.”

He didn’t, but Brian nodded anyway.

“Y’know, we should get going. But we’ll come back to talk before we leave!”

She agreed enthusiastically, as Brian backed into the car. Pat turned the engine on, and pulled away the second the door was closed. Brian waved goodbye through the closed window as they left, the women hiding behind the tinted glass of the back windows.

They stayed silent, letting Pat concentrate on driving, until he pulled out onto paved roads.

“Good job.” He told Brian, a little less gruffly than usual. Simone and Allegra agreed, laughing over how stressful they’d found Autumn’s enthusiasm. Brian tried not to blush at Pat’s praise, choosing instead to turn in his seat and gossip with Simone and Allegra on the journey back.

The group stopped at the nearest takeout place on the way to their motel, an independent Chinese restaurant with semi-decent Google reviews. Simone had gone in alone, a list of requests scribbled onto a page ripped from Brian’s notebook. Left in the car, Pat had joined in a little with Allegra and Brian as they chatted, making dry jokes about the most eccentric people they’d met on cases whenever they invited him to join the conversation. A good twenty minutes later Simone returned victorious, waving the two bags of food at them through the car windows. She and Allegra had carefully fastened the food into the middle seat before Pat drove the remaining mile to the hotel, and Brian realised that he truly felt part of the group. He smiled as he sang along to the radio, failing to harmonise with Simone, just because it irritated Pat.

 

* * *

 

Back at the motel Simone and Allegra made their goodbyes at top of the stairs, taking the boxes of takeout they wanted before disappearing into their room. Pat shrugged and laughed, walking off in the direction of his and Brian’s respective rooms. Pat still had the takeout food, so Brian followed him to the door. He was a little surprised when Pat ushered him in and handed over the bag of takeout. Still, Brian managed to find the room’s one chair to sit in, his back to single the barred window.

The room was a double, almost identical to his own. The en suite door was ajar, and Pat haphazardly made the bed (evidently the cleaner hadn’t been allowed in) before throwing his backpack into a corner. Dragging the table between them, he told Brian: “God, I’m fucking starving. We need to start having lunch breaks.”

Brian agreed, he was ravenous, carefully emptying the bag onto the table to find the food he had ordered. Pat perched himself on the bed, starting on the box nearest to him. They ate in silence until neither of them could manage any more food, picking at the remnants. Brian decided to broach the subject that had been playing on his mind for the entire latter half of the day.

“Listen, uh, Pat. Simone told me what happened… last year, I mean. And… if you were need to talk, or whatever, I’m here.”

Pat appraised him sceptically, eyebrows drawn together and a frown forming on his lips. “She shouldn’t have told you about that.” He turned his focus to the near-empty carton in his lap, poking at a spring roll.

“I’m fine, Brian. Forget about it.”

Brian never coped well with being told off and Pat snapping made him revert to a nervous schoolboy, failing to stand up for himself despite only meaning well. He kept his head down and pretended to be interested in the food. In his peripheral vision he could see Pat glaring at him, expression still sour.

“Shit. Simone and Allegra have the booze.” Was the next thing Pat said, almost a full two minutes of silence later. He sounded a little defeated, no fight left in his tone.

“I can go get it, don’t worry!” Brian offered, desperate to be useful and endear himself to Pat again. He was already preparing to stand and leave when Pat gave him a pointed look, eyebrows raised and a near-smirk on his face.

With an _Oh!_ Brian realised what Pat meant, feeling stupid for being so slow a second time in one day.

“Better not interrupt them, huh?” Brian said lamely, feeling his cheeks heating up.

Pat laughed, in that way where Brian could see both rows of his teeth.

“You’ll get used to it.” He reassured Brian, still laughing a little. “Do they not have gay people in Baltimore, or what?”

Brian didn’t have a witty response, he just laughed, shaking his head a little. They _definitely_ did, but it felt a little weird to tell Pat that.

 

Once Brian had cleared all the trash from the table, Pat had retrieved his notes and was balancing a laptop on the bed next to him – screen pointed very deliberately away from Brian. Pat had perked up a little after the food and kicked into the higher gear that was strictly reserved for working later than he should be.

“Go on then.” Pat looked up at the sound of Brian’s voice, his tone challenging, “What’s your theory, Detective Inspector Gill?”

Pat laughed a little, trying to judge whether Brian was serious.

Brian was definitely serious. He wanted to see the ‘slump’ Simone had mentioned in practice. Or, more importantly, wanted to see if Patrick was still in a slump.

“I think those signatures were _weird,_ Detective Inspector Gilbert,” Pat teased, “And I didn’t like the number of prescription pills in that house. Not at all. Why where they all downstairs in the dining room? Shouldn’t they be in his bedroom? Or kitchen? Plus, like half the bottles were full.”

“What if they were just unused ones?” Brian asked, partly because he was confused, partly to prompt Pat to tell him more.

“Nah, we checked for that. He hadn’t taken some of the most important ones.”

“But didn’t the coroner say the cause of death was a second stroke? That’s a natural death, I’m pretty sure.”

Pat thought for a moment, focusing on the curtain behind Brian’s head.

“They didn’t find overdoses of anything in his system?” Brian prompted. Pat didn’t even blink before replying.

“No. But he might have stopped taking something? They don’t test for that.”

“Which bottles were still full?”

Simone and Allegra still had the pill bottles, sealed in evidence bags, in their room. However, Brian and Pat could reference the photos they had shared.

“Naproxen…. And it looks like _war_ … _farin_?” Pat squinted at the screen of his phone, frowning slightly.

Brian nodded, scribbling down the names phonetically. They agreed to look up a drug each, trawling through paragraphs and paragraphs of indecipherable medical jargon. Brian finished his research first.

“So, uh, naproxen is a painkiller. It also thins the blood. Pretty sure he had a super high dose, judging from what’s recommended online?”

Pat nodded, looking past his phone to the table while he absorbed the information.

“What about warfarin?” Brian asked him.

“An anticoagulant. Stops blood clots forming.”

“Strokes are caused by blood clots, right?” Brian, as usual when working with Pat, felt he was stating the obvious. Fortunately, Pat seemed too caught up in his train of thought to make a snarky comment.

“Yeah. Putting the chances of that second stroke through the fuckin’ roof.” Pat nodded. “This is huge. We need to talk to his doctor.”

 Brian nodded. He tried to think through every other implication of that information. Every possible innocent cause, every way that it could have been caused maliciously. Surely this could just be an old man forgetting his doctor’s advice. Although Allegra had said the pills were hidden. It had to be the ex-wife, right? She could’ve taken them from him. Or stopped him from taking them. Why else would Mr Powell’s will change so quickly, otherwise? There’s no way Autumn would kill her own father, right? Pat was clearly exploring similar possibilities, mind working a hundred miles an hour, judging by the stony expression on his face. Brian didn’t even bother to voice his concerns, instead flipping through his notebook and writing down a to-do list to discuss with the whole group tomorrow.

  * _stroke medication not taken_ , _appeared to be hidden? could be intentional or accidental_
  * _(check where found)_
  * _Call doctor_
  * _Call jenna to run background check on ex-wife?_
  * _Update tara_
  * _Interview autumn?_
  * _Check farmhands on site before death_
  * _Check for power of attorney (if real?)_
  * _Tell police?_



When Brian heaved a sigh, and dropped his open notebook down on the table next to their phones, Pat finally looked up. He unclasped his hands to drag the book closer, tilting his head to read what Brian had written. Pat looked up at him, eyes tired but crinkled with a smile. He pried the pen from Brian’s grasp before scribbling out the last bullet point. Brian laughed, and Pat reciprocated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More detective stuff! and more Simone and Legs for ocel's enjoyment ;)
> 
> ps. any name improvement suggestions/other comments are much appreciated!!


	6. Chapter 6

The police took less than a day to find Samantha. After weeks of gathering evidence and following up leads back at the office, the four detectives gathered around Pat’s phone, anxiously awaiting updates from the LAPD. The search was dull and slow paced, and it took a couple of hours to track her down as she travelled home from work on the wide, heavily-trafficked streets of Los Angeles. 

Brian had now spent a considerable amount of work time with Simone, Allegra and Pat. They were kept on as expert witnesses for the Powell inheritance case and watched as the state of New York ruled against Autumn’s mother over and over again. Credit card fraud, identity theft, and eventually voluntary manslaughter. Samantha had been busy during the few months she had spent ‘looking after’ Mr Powell, and the jury were horror-struck by her ruthless exploitation and manipulation of her own struggling family each time a new piece of evidence was brought to light.  

Despite having their second degree murder case dropped to a manslaughter ruling, the prosecutors were pleased with the verdict. They’d given the investigators smug nods as Samantha cried, quietly rejoicing as the judge read out the details of her fifteen-year sentence. The case made headlines, and all four of them were given modest bonuses for their part in the case. Tara even gave the office a half day to go for drinks after Simone called her to share the guilty verdict. Despite the pride and happiness his colleagues were exuding, Brian still struggled with the reality of everything transpiring inside the court room.

It had been hard to passively watch as Autumn cried over the ruling. Seeing her only remaining parent sent to prison had to be difficult, regardless of how distant or controlling she had been. Brian struggled to leave his emotions at the door, both entering and leaving the law courts. His heart hurt for Autumn, and for Mr. Powell, and for the farm employees. He knew the legal and detective fees would probably plunge the farm back into debt. He struggled to cling to any comfort that justice had been served. What was the point if they had caused the family to splinter and the farm to close?

Pat pulled him back to reality on a busy city street, laying a hand on Brian’s shoulder and guiding him through the doorway of the bar. Inside, the entire office was gathered around a smattering of small tables. Jenna and Clayton were guarding a couple of extra chairs each. They cheered when the four detectives approached. Tara bought a fresh round of drinks (Brian felt a little weird seeing her outside of the office, easy-going and laughing with the others) and he tried to smile through the toast to their success. After a conversation about what a ‘huge asset to the team’ he had been, Brian had to excuse himself to go to the bathroom.

He stood at the sink, trying to calm down and avoid looking is mirror-self in the eyes. Brian still hadn’t fully come back to earth before someone else burst through the door. However, he wasn’t sure that he could ever feel like his normal self again. Brian left before the other guy could approach him.

Pat caught Brian in the corridor before he re-entered the bar area, out of view of their friends and colleagues.

“Hey, man. You alright?”

Brian sighed, only feeling comfortable dropping his façade in front of Pat.

“I guess so. It’s just, a lot, y’know?”

“I get that.”

It felt reminiscent of his very first court attendance with Pat.  Maybe he should be tougher, after all the time that had passed, but this case hit especially hard. The emotional and physical energy he’d poured into it, the closeness he felt with Autumn, the momentous friendships he’d built with his colleagues along the course of the investigation, it all felt especially close to home. He supposd that he should be happy for the closed case, but mostly he felt hollow.

“‘Wanna come back to mine for a bit?” Pat offered. They’d only been at the bar for one round, but it was already beginning to fill up with happy hour drinkers.

Brian nodded, feeling ridiculous as his eyes started to water. He didn’t trust himself to talk, and Pat seemed to understand and respect that. Brian barely registered the wolf-whistles mixed with concerned questions from their co-workers as Pat excused both of them. He just murmured some apologies and waved until they were out on the breezy streets again. Pat ordered them a car using some ridesharing service, apparently not wanting to try and bundle an already-overwhelmed Brian onto the subway. Their driver was blessedly punctual and quiet, however the rush hour traffic had started to build and the ride took almost half an hour.

Brian couldn’t bring himself to say anything to Pat yet. Not in the semi-public environment of the taxi. He thought he might start crying, or that he’d never stop talking, or maybe he’d force open the car door and run away through the stationary traffic. Instead, Brian stared blankly out the window, trapped with his own thoughts. Every minute or so, Brian caught himself glancing across at Pat to check he was still there. On the few occasions that he looked up from his phone to meet Brian’s eye, Pat smiled slightly. Brian knew it wasn’t intended as mocking or condescending. He found it comforting.

 

* * *

 

In the end Pat asked the driver to stop just around the corner from his building, and got out to walk the last few hundred feet with Brian tagging along as closely as he could. When they reached his apartment, Pat opened the door just in time for Brian to barge past him. Pat let the door slam behind them, followed Brian inside to the couch he’d thrown himself on.

Charlie _meow­-_ ed for attention, weaving around Pat’s legs until Pat gently shooed him away. For a moment, Pat was shocked by the difference in Brian since the first time he’d come over. Brian who had asked permission to put his computer on the table, to use the bathroom, to get a glass of water. Now, he seemed to have no qualms about openly crying into the arm of Pat’s sofa, shoes on. Pat manoeuvred around Brian’s feet where they hung off the end of the couch, perching himself in the small space by Brian’s knees.

Not sure what to say, Pat let Brian cry himself out. He leant himself forward, rubbing a hand over Brian’s shoulder through his cheap suit shirt. The contact only made Brian sob harder, so Pat gingerly retracted his hand, feeling more than a bit useless. What could he do? Pat wasn’t really a ‘feelings’ guy these days, despite what his therapist tried to convince him.

The blazer Brian had worn to court was left in a heap on the floor, and Pat busied his hands by folding it. He picked a few stray cat hairs off the black fabric before draping it over the back of the couch. Anything to distract himself from the pain he could hear in Brian’s hoarse crying. Pat didn’t try anything else to comfort Brian. He didn’t really feel comfortable touching him, and his own glasses began steaming up whenever Brian tried – and failed – to answer his unspoken questions between sobs and gasps.

He settled on watching Charlie strut around the room, trying not to intrude on Brian too much. Brian wasn’t a pretty crier. Infrequently, Pat had seen a tear of frustration or exhaustion leak from Brian’s eyes, but he’d never Brian fully give in. His face was puffy and reddened, with lines etched into his cheeks from the seams of the sofa cushions. He sniffed, trying to stop his running nose, and wiped harshly at his eyes over and over again. Brian’s glasses were gone, presumably he was lying on them.

Pat crept to the kitchen to find tissues, resorting to a wad of toilet paper when he couldn’t find anything. Brian choked out a broken _thanks_ as Pat apologetically handed it over, turning onto this side slightly and curling his legs in to make space for Pat on the couch. After darting back to the kitchen to get Brian some water, Pat returned to see him looking a little more composed. He apologised to Pat as he took the glass, gulping down half of the water before Pat got a chance to reply.

“No, dude, don’t worry. It’s fine. All good? Sorry.” Brian giggled croakily at Pat’s awkwardness. Pat shook his head.

“Sorry, it’s, just… I’m not good at this, y’know? I wish I was, but…”

“No, its fine. I don’t know why I got so upset. I guess it’s just a lot? Yeah?”

They sat silently a while longer, and Charlie found his way onto Brian’s lap. Charlie purred when Brian scratched behind one furry ear, and both men were grateful for the distraction. Pat mostly directed his next question towards the cat, hoping it would reach Brian on the way.

“Was it the crowd at the pub? They can be all be a bit much. For me, sometimes, I mean.” Brian laughed. Of course Pat would put it down to social anxiety.

“No, no its all good. It was a nice surprise. It just felt weird to be celebrating, y’know?”

Pat hummed noncommittally, seeming indifferent, and reached over Brian’s legs to stroke Charlie’s back.

“We ruined someone’s life, Pat. Probably more than one person’s life. How can we celebrate that?” He sounded like he was about to cry again, voice breaking in places.

“She had it coming, Bri. What if she’d gotten away with it? She’d have ruined Autumn’s life. Kicked her out of her home and taken all of Powell’s money. Got away with murder.”

Brian scoffed.

“How much did they pay us, Pat?”

“I don’t know, probably like forty? Maybe fifty?”

“And the lawyers?”

“About a hundred? Maybe more? But that was the estate’s choice. They didn’t have to use private lawyers. The state would have prosecuted.”

Brian just carried on.

“A hundred and fifty thousand dollars, Pat! What farm makes that much? She’s gonna have to sell it anyway!”

Pat shrugs, still looking down at Charlie. Brian felt near hysterical. The tears were drying on his face, itching and making the skin feel too tight for his body. Pat’s nonchalance was _so_ irritating, a mask Brian couldn’t seem to break, shatter, rip off Pat’s face.

“I’m not cut out for this.” Brian declared, desperate to evoke some kind of response from Pat. “I’m ‘gonna quit. I’m not as good as you guys anyway. You’ll be better without me.”

Finally, Pat looked at him. His eyes were red-rimmed, and his forehead and chin were lined heavily from withheld emotion.

“Don’t quit. You can’t quit.” Pat was almost shouting, and it caused Charlie to dart off Brian’s lap, scratching through his suit trousers as he left.

“What if something goes wrong Pat? What if I fuck up and someone gets hurt, or killed? What then?” Brian saw the hurt in Pat’s eyes, and all the fight left him in the second it took for Brian to realise what he’d said.

“No, I… I didn’t mean…” Brian scrambled for a way to take back what he’d said, to apologize, or to convince Pat he hadn’t meant it, all in one breath. He couldn’t find the words.

Pat didn’t cry. Brian had never seen Pat cry. He’d seen him shout and slam doors and completely shut off emotionally, but never cry. This was the first time he’d seen Pat’s face fall and crumple, long hair falling forwards to cover his eyes. Brian shifted closer to embrace Pat. He couldn’t see his face, or hear him, but he could feel the shake of Pat’s broad shoulders. Feel him gasp for breath. He could see the white pressure marks around Pat’s hands, where they were pressed into his own forehead and jaw.

One arm was wrapped around Pat, stroking his shoulder, while the other wrestled Pat’s hand away from his face. Brian was trying to stop Pat from hurting himself, knowing the tight grip he had on his face would be hard enough to bruise. Brian felt a little silly, rocking the bigger man side to side like a child, stroking his hair out of his eyes, but he was also a little relieved to see that Pat was still human. That he could hurt and lose control and need comfort.

Weeks had passed without mention of what Simone had told him in that farmhouse, but Brian knew what this was about.

“You know I didn’t mean it like that. It wasn’t your fault. You couldn’t have known.” Brian soothed, repeating affirmations again and again. He’d say it over and over until Pat could believe it.

“I’m, I’m not a good detective Brian. People say it a lot, but I’m not. I’m guessing half the fucking time. I couldn’t even get one fucking case right, and I, I killed someone Brian.

“I’m alone and I’m fucking stupid and I’m too old for this shit, and I don’t ‘wanna do it anymore. Not if I keep hurting people.”

Brian pulled away from Pat, waiting for him to turn to face Brian before he responded.

“Pat. You didn’t fucking _kill_ anyone. All I’ve heard since I’ve started at this damn firm is how much you help people. How many people ask for you specifically, because you are so clever and astute and quick. You are _so_ good at what you do, whether you believe it or noth. You follow your hunches and they’re so, _so_ , rarely wrong. You’re brilliant. And if you quit now you’d do yourself and everyone else such a huge disservice.”

Pat’s eyes were wide, still swimming with tears. Brian jokingly offered him remnants of the screwed up, snotty tissue Brian had used earlier. Pat barked a laugh, immediately followed by a serious, quiet _thank you_. Brian knew he didn’t mean for the tissue, which was returned to the floor.

He couldn’t be sure, but Brian felt like Pat had finally heard him. No matter how good he was with other people, Pat was unobservant when it came to the people who loved him. To all the people who cared about him, who owed him so much, who valued the extra work he put into helping every single client.

“I’m still too old.” Pat retaliated, voice gravely.

“I’m too upbeat.”

“I’m too miserable.”

“I’m definitely too emotional to be a detective.” Brian laughed.

“No!” Pat insisted, “I’m just an old robot.”

“ _Noooo!”_ Brian whinged back, about to start yet another round of ‘Compliment Pat Until He Believes It’.

Instead, Pat interrupted him by heading to the kitchen to find some of his roommate’s wine. He ordered food online for both of them while Brian texted his flatmates that he’d be home late, and no, he hadn’t been murdered (both Jonah and Laura hated Brian’s job, and were constantly convinced he’d be found floating dead in the Hudson. Brian had informed them the fresh bodies don’t usually float).

Pat was still reading something on his phone when Brian spoke again, voice almost entirely recovered from his crying fit.

“That first week, you said I don’t look like a detective.”

“Did I?” Pat laughed. He mulled it for a moment.

“Honestly? That’s probably a good thing. Although, you always look exhausted these days, which is like, the main requirement for looking like a detective.”

“Shut up!” Brian laughed.

“Don’t worry, it’s a good look on you.”

 

* * *

 

Drifting into a relationship felt infinitely more natural than drifting into friendship. The more Brian learned about Pat, the more intrigued and obsessed he felt.

As his experience as a private investigator grew, Brian found himself making breakthroughs at work more and more frequently. He fell in love with his job on the same timeline as he fell in love with Pat. Despite the road-bumps, the drawbacks, the challenges, Brian could walk through New York City knowing he wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.

He felt it most on the late nights at the office, when he was absorbed with a good mystery and the hours flew past so fast that the building security guards got worried about him. The felt it on the days where he got to the office just on time, with Simone and Allegra cheering when he made it through the door at 8:59. His passion was affirmed with every thank you card from clients, every hard-won court case or settlement, every time Pat gazed at him across the room during an ‘important’ meeting.

They worked well together. Brian had natural charm and empathy, accompanied with fine-tuned emotional intelligence and a constant stream of original ideas. He complemented Pat’s carefully-accumulated experience, his natural eye for detail, his ‘hunches’ (that Brian insisted were magic), and his methodical approach to each case.

Pat began to get better, month by month. It was slow progress, and Brian had no delusions about his own contribution. As Simone had once told him, late at night in a near-empty bar after all the others had gone home, he wasn’t the help Pat needed. But, he was the motivation to get help.

Simone thought that was critically important to his recovery, and after seeing a well-rested and relatively-cheery Pat arrive at work each morning, Brian felt inclined to agree. Nights out accompanied by Pat, and sometimes Simone and Allegra too, became increasingly frequent. Now they went out every few days, whenever Pat felt like it.

At the end of one random particularly busy, but satisfying, week Brian decided he wanted to live with Pat. They were sitting in the pub they’d first met in, nursing their third beer bottles, when Pat brought up the subject of his flat. Shortly after their work trip upstate, Pat’s roommate had moved in with his fiancée. Whilst he was happy for his friend (Pat was taking Brian to the wedding next month) the financial pressure of paying rent alone was becoming overwhelming.

 As he lamented about not wanting to move out of the two bedroom apartment, gears were turning in Brian’s head.

“Y’know, Jonah was talking about moving in with his partner the other day. But he didn’t want to leave me and Laura to pay for the apartment alone.”

Although he’d miss his old college roommate, Brian was hoping Pat would get the hint. Pat was looking at him blankly, and Brian struggled to judge whether he understood what was suggesting. He decided to leave clues that were a little more obvious. Sometimes Brian thought it was incredible that this man was a detective.

“I’d be up for moving, though.”

Pat smiled at him indulgently, before taking a long drink from his beer bottle.

“Would you now?” Pat challenged. “‘Wanna take the second bedroom?”

“God no.” Brian told him, smiling. “But Laura might?”

Suddenly, Pat took his suggestion seriously.

“Holy shit. Would she? You think so?”

“I’ll ask her, but sure!”

 

* * *

 

Laura did want the second bedroom, and Jonah was ecstatic at the prospect of moving in with his long-term partner. Moving day had been difficult, preceded by evenings of stress and doubt. The roommates were sad to be split up, but ultimately all of them were excited to move on with their lives. Brian felt like they’d found the best solution, and Pat soon grew to agree. Pat had found living with Laura weird initially, she was a near stranger despite her similarities to Brian, and it was a difficult transition to a crowded flat after living alone for a few months. However, when rent came around, they had money left over to celebrate their first month together.

Pat’s apartment got tidier, with Laura and Brian carrying over their existing unofficial chore schedule. His cat, Charles, got a companion in Brian and Laura’s cat Zuko. Once they all got used to each other, living together felt like the most natural thing in the world. Coming home with Pat became the best part of Brian’s day.

On occasion, Pat would get in his own head. He’d push Brian away. Brian was too young, Pat would tell him. ‘I’m too old and bitter and miserable,’ he’d insist. When these episodes escalated, Laura would go to visit Jonah (Brian was forever grateful for his sister’s tact and empathy). Brian would insist on seeing a couples’ therapist. He’d would talk Pat down. He’d give him space or he’d hold him close.

Despite these incidents, their relationship thrived. Each time it happened would eventually bring them closer, give them the tools to communicate better, help them understand each other better. Pat kept getting better, too. Brian knew he still carried guilt. He’d still freeze on certain cases. He’d thrash in his sleep, and Brian could only watch as Pat woke himself up crying. But Brian was always there, he’d make them coffees to drink in bed, let the cats in to cuddle with them, he’d let Pat talk or stay as silent as much as he needed to.

Pat had escaped his slump, Simone and Allegra informed Brian, drunk in their apartment one night. Both couples would compete for highest solve rates, beg Tara for the juiciest cases. During their next case as a foursome, Brian never once felt out of place. He knew he was valued as a part of the team, no longer given the grunt work. Younger detectives asked him and Pat for advice, gossiped about their ‘secret’ relationship, and clambered over each other to work with the legendary Detective Inspector Gill and his partner.

 Brian was surprised to find himself genuinely happy. He’d crawl out of a warm, shared bed to a job he loved. He’d come home after work to spend time with Laura, or Pat, or even go out with the colleagues who’d all become cherished friends.

Maybe he was cut out for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god! It's done! This was a struggle to write, but I'm pleased with it now that it's finally over.
> 
> Let me know if you have ideas for another story/sequel!   
> And your comments/kudos are SO APPRECIATED! special thanks to Ocel, who punctually reminded me that lovely people are reading this! 
> 
> <3

**Author's Note:**

> 2Atoms wrote this story in the year of our lord 2018 and hated every stitch.


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